Deadly Love
by shipperfaerie
Summary: A case at the 12th leads to the capture of the person Beckett cannot live without; with Rick being held by a psychotic sadistic criminal, it's up to Kate to get him out while forced to confront her worst fears. Set in S4. Will continue after the crime.
1. Prologue

**Hi guys!**

**This is my first ever fanfic, and I was struck with inspiration as I waited impatiently for more Castle episodes. "Deadly Love" is set sometime in season 4, so anyone who hasn't seen up to that point should know that there WILL be spoilers here. I tried to stick as close as I could to the characters like they are in the show, and I apologise if there are any blatant deviations. Keeping this in mind, why don't y'all drop me some reviews and let me know what you think? I can't get better if I don't know I'm doing it wrong! NEW ADDITION: Guys, I'm no cop, nor am I a crime novelist or anyone that has ever dabbled in this genre, other than watching Castle and a few reruns of CSI/L&O when I'm bored. Therefore, my knowledge of the ways of the police and their gadgets, especially the NYPD, is limited. I try and google everything I use, and everything I'll mention here has been done in the show. I can't help other mistakes but encouraging reviews will help me from making them in the future! ;)**

**At any rate; no characters/places/scenes/incidents that are mentioned on the ABC show Castle are mine, and neither are any other pop culture references/other characters that were not a figment of my imagination. The plot and everything else is mine, and I hold it very close to me. This is relevant to ALL my chapters. Currently the rating is a 'T' and I reckon it will stay like that until further notice. Lastly, most of my chapters will be longer than this one; the prologue is a way for me to lay down the works and get you all familiar with the setting of my own little Castle world. And without further ado; HERE WE GO. Enjoy!**

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><p>PROLOGUE<p>

_Pain._

_White hot, freezing pain._

_Castle yelled as the large cube of dry ice was pressed mercilessly into his shin. His agony pierced the silent warehouse as the man who held the tongs laughed, the sounds bouncing off each other. "Pleasant?" he asked lightheartedly, and gave the writer only a second to gather his wits before once again pressing the block onto his skin, his mouth twisted in a sadistic upturned grin._

_"Why?" Castle panted hoarsely, yanking halfheartedly again on the hands tied to the chair behind his back, the ropes cutting into his already chafed skin, almost welcoming the sensation as it alleviated the focus from his leg for a split second. But the man with the mask wasn't done. Snarling, he twisted the block and Castle could practically hear his skin sizzle and freeze, the pain too excruciating to begin to comprehend._

_"I feel like it."_

__A hard punch to Castle's face knocked the writer unconscious for the fourth time, and he slumped forward in his seat, held only by the tight, bloody ropes that tied him to his chair, including his hands, arms torso, legs and calves. The masked man chuckled as the writer's blood dropped from his nose down onto his pants, finding the sight deeply satisfying. He set down the tongs onto the black floor and got up from his seat, grabbing his gun with a gloved hand as he walked out of the warehouse. The writer wasn't going anywhere, and he could almost smell his next victim's blood. It was time to leave another present for Detective Beckett.__

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In Kate's life, there had been few things she was sure of. Being an NYPD homicide detective kind of rejected any ridiculous ideas of safety that might have sprung up in her life. Always a step out, step in kind of girl, she kept most people in her life as far away from her as possible, never growing too attached because she knew, all too well, that she would not survive another fall. Not after her mother had been murdered. And better to be safe than sorry; that way, no one got too hurt should things turn for the worse. Her own happiness mattered little to her for she hadn't been happy in a long, long time.

Yet, as of lately, the brunette knew that this perspective of the world was changing. It had shivered when he had first bounded into her life, shuddered when he went with his ex-wife to the Hamptons, wobbled severely when they had kissed, cracked when they almost froze to death, exploded when they diffused a bomb and saved millions of lives and vaporized completely when he had told her those three, unforgettable words after she'd been shot.

Richard Castle. Four years into their partnership, and Kate found it hard to imagine being a cop without him. It was true, what Roy – may he rest in peace, her beloved Captain – had said to her; she was good at her job, but Castle made it fun. When the word 'partner' came up, instead of sidekick, she felt the term click into place. Katherine Beckett was a good enough detective not to need a partner who was like she – rather, she needed the opposite. And that's where Castle entered the equation.

And so, gradually and almost unnoticeably, the writer who called her his 'muse' bounced his way into her heart. She might deny it, she might object to it whenever it came up, but he was there to stay. That wall – the one she'd told him about, the one that prevented her from being ever truly happy in any sort of relationship – it was the only thing standing between taking that extra step. She'd tried twice before, only to be unintentionally shot down by him. Third time, she wanted to make it count.

Often at night, when her mind grew tired of thinking of her mother's murder or her current case, Kate's mind flitted innocently to Castle. The detective had caught herself on more than a few occasions when she'd actually giggled out loud or cracked a smile just at the memory of him. The first time this occurred she'd been so shocked at herself, she'd been grumpy the entire following day, leaving a perplexed Castle wondering what in the world he'd done that time to deserve such treatment.

But of course, he hadn't done anything. It was all her. With her flirting, her closeness to him, her newly formed NEED to have him around. The very thought was jarring, as Kate Beckett prided herself on the fact that she didn't need anyone. Though she relied heavily on her team at the precinct, that connection – which had seemed so strong four years ago – paled in comparison to what she felt towards Castle.

And that freaked her out, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.

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><p><strong><em>And there you have it! Review, please? I'll be ever so ecstatic if you do. I should be posting updates regularly (for example, the first chapter is already completely written) so keep that in mind. ALSO, I'll try and stick as much as I can to canon, and will integrate future episodes into my writing. Last thing; I'm not expecting this fic to be massive. Perhaps five, six chapters? I don't know yet, but my basic outline encompasses that.<em>**

**_Review! Pretty pretty please with Casckett on top? ^_^_**


	2. Chapter 1

**Yo! First chapter here at last! Not sure about the length, so let me know in the reviews if you think this is appropriate, or if you'd rather it be shorter or longer. No characters/places/scenes/incidents that are mentioned on the ABC show Castle are mine, and neither are any other pop culture references/other characters that were not a figment of my imagination. The plot and everything else is mine, and I hold it very close to me. This is relevant to ALL my chapters.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>CHAPTER ONE<p>

"Hey guys, anyone seen Castle?" Beckett asked, suddenly aware that her shadow was missing from his customary place by her side, facing the murder board. Four murders, different causes of death, no connections between the victims apart from a postmortem mutilation they all shared, and the fact that they were all found in dark alleys the morning after their murders. Each victim, three female and one male of varying ages, had a small heart carved into their chest, all done by the same hand, same blade. Had it not been for this, they would have written off the murders as not connected at all.

Shelly Woodland; asphyxiated, Brett Sanders; drowned, Erica Harrison; knife to the heart and Lillian Denver; fatal blow to the head with some sort of metal object that Lanie had found hard to describe. They'd been working on the case for three days now, and a quick glance at her watch told Beckett that she would probably not be heading home tonight, as it was close to one AM.

Esposito sighed and rubbed his eyes, lying back in his chair as he stared at the board, frustration etched on his face. "Yeah, he went home around ten minutes ago – left you a note on your desk since you were with Gates at the time. Apparently Alexis had a meltdown over grades," the detective said, not sparing Kate a glance as his eyes traced over the murders again and again. He was backed by his partner Ryan who nodded and stifled a yawn, mimicking Esposito's actions.

Nodding her head, she bit her lip to get the subject of Richard and Alexis Castle out of her mind and concentrate on the case. It needed to be solved quickly – murders like these weren't favoured by the mayor. Problem was, all of them were really absolutely random. Beckett was climbing walls by now and even Castle hadn't managed to come up with a solution. Or, well, he DID but Kate highly doubted that the killings were the cause of a highly professional yet now deranged CIA agent with a love/hate relationship with the state of New York, once his home but then his downfall because of drugs, temptation, se-

Point was she didn't believe a word of it. The urgent need to sleep mixed with unhealthy amounts of caffeine, the absence of her almost always joyful partner and a nasty feeling at the pit of her stomach she couldn't quite place all accumulated into one very cranky Kate Beckett.

At roughly quarter to two, all of them jumped as Beckett's phone began ringing; her cellphone, not the precinct one. Alarmed, she shot the guys a look and all three of them hurried to her table, the bottom of Beckett's stomach plummeting as she saw the caller ID.

It was Alexis Castle.

"Alexis?" she answered, staring with worried eyes at Ryan and Esposito, who had similar expressions on their faces.

"Kate? KATE! Oh God, I'm so glad you picked up! Is Dad still there? He's not answering his cell, it's off; PLEASE tell me Dad's there, he HAS to be! He PROMISED to come home as quickly as he could but he's not here yet and I'd honestly rather have him be at the precinct than somewhere else because I REALLY don't have spare stress to hand out to worrying over his whereabouts. Of course I'm MUCH rather he was here but I'm growing worried and Grandma isn't helping, so Kate, PLEASE," young Alexis ranted at lightning speed, and Beckett had a hard time following her, feeling the dull ache in her stomach intensify with every rushed word.

"Alexis. ALEXIS. Stop. No, your father's not here – he took a cab right? Perhaps there's a road block?" the detective suggested to the highly strung teenager, turning away from the shocked faces of her two detectives who had by now realized that something was up with Castle. When Alexis started squeaking in tones only audible to dogs in reply, Kate sighed and tried again.

"Perhaps his phone died? There are a million and one reasons why he isn't home yet, Alexis – don't worry. If he's in trouble, we'll get to hi- Martha?" Beckett asked as the older woman replaced Alexis on the phone, by the sounds of it having had to wrestle it out of her granddaughter's grip.

"Oh Kate, please, find Richard. It's not LIKE him to disappear like this, especially in the middle of this case you two are working on. I've had this terrible feeling all evening – no, Alexis, it isn't the sushi – and I can FEEL that something's wrong. Please, Kate?" Martha said, and Kate nodded, forgetting for a moment that they couldn't see her.

"I will. Don't worry about it. Lock your door and I'll update you when I can," she said and quickly hung up the phone before the hysteria continued. She stood, unmoving, for several seconds as the information sunk in. Castle was missing. Martha was right; he wouldn't just go off like that in the middle of a case. Sitting down slowly, Kate took a second to compose herself, still avoiding the questioning gazes being thrown her way by Ryan and Esposito. The dull ache in her stomach had intensified to a full on throbbing pain, and her heart thundered so loudly in her ribcage she was sure it was audible for half the precinct. It was only as she saw that her hands were actually SHAKING that Kate blew out a shaky breath before getting up and walking briskly over to the murder board, her voice steady and calm as she briefed the two detectives on the current events.

_Shit, Castle. Where the hell are you? And why do I have this terrible feeling your disappearance is connected to our case?_

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"Ryan, go check with the doorman, see if he saw anything. Esposito, start looking for something that might point us to this bastard," Kate instructed as the three detectives stepped out of the car outside Castle's apartment building. She'd considered going up to talk to Alexis and Martha, but concluded that they probably didn't know any more than she did and would most likely be too distressing. Plus, the detective wasn't sure she could handle Alexis in the mood she was in right now; what with her own fears so close to the surface, Kate might just snap.

Instead, she dedicated all of her efforts into searching the scene, looking for anything that might have belonged to Castle, when her phone rang again. "Beckett," she answered, feeling the dread increase within her as she was told of another body being found, with the same heart on the chest, though with a new message. No matter how hard she pressed, all the officer would tell her was that she "needed to come right away".

The moment she hung up the call and called to Esposito, Ryan came running out of the building, shaking his head. "Nothing – doorman says he was talking to a resident and didn't see a thing. Resident confirmed," the detective stated, and stopped himself from talking further as he saw the looks on his team's faces. "Another body?"

"Yes – and it's fresh. We have a witness this time; apparently the killer was sloppier. Get in," Kate said as she opened the car door, and less than ten minutes later they pulled up in yet another nondescript dark alley, lit up with the familiar blue and red lights, with police tape and cops running around in no clear path. The crime scene. Stepping out of the car, Kate made her way over to Lanie as Esposito and Ryan spread out amongst the cops to find out more.

Kate's stress level – which was starting to peak the closer she got to the body – managed to jerk even higher as she took note of Lanie's expression. "Girl, prepare yourself for this one," the ME stated with a grim face as she eyed the detective, almost wishing the woman would not have to see the body. But, of course, that wasn't an option.

"Cause of death is stabbing, though our killer also bashed the man's skull against the wall, knocking him unconscious. I don't know too much about the killer yet – like you probably heard, it's the same one – but I CAN tell you that I've unsolved the mystery of Castle's disappearance…" Lanie said, and sighed as Kate's questioning gaze turned from her to the body below them. On the thirty-something year old male's chest was that same heart design as had been found on all the other victims' bodies, but this one had an extra message. Beside the obvious stabbing wound, there depicted a message written in black felt tip, all caps.

_"DEAR KATHERINE B  
><em>_HOPE YOU LIKE MY GIFTS  
>GOT YOUR WRITER<br>HE IS TERRIBLE COMPANY  
>I DONT LIKE HIM AND HE KNOWS IT<br>WITH LOVE ME."_

All the blood drained from Kate's face as her worst fears came true. Castle… was with the killer. RICK. And apparently the killer knew her, and was killing in her name. Forcing herself to breathe as the emotional turmoil inside her peaked, out of the corner of her eye she saw Esposito talking to a scared looking young male of no more than twenty five years of age. That must be the witness. Seeing the distress her friend was in, Lanie knew Beckett well enough to step aside and let her deal with her feelings alone. This wasn't just a murder case anymore – it was more personal than almost any other case had been, overshadowed by possibly only Kate's shooting and her mother's murder.

"Check for prints, canvas the area, let me know if anything pops up," Kate finally ordered, and watched as the uniforms continued on with their work before she went over to the young man with Esposito. He looked shaken up, and had blood running down his right arm from a bullet that had gone straight through his arm, but other than that seemed lucid enough.

Gathering her wits about her, Kate continued with the usual procedure, finding herself in the precinct some time later with a new addition to the murder board. Or rather, crime board as Castle WASN'T dead. Leaving Ryan and Esposito to fend for themselves for a few minutes, Kate made her way to the bathroom, entering the stall in which, so long ago, she'd read Heat Wave for the first time. A certain BIT of it.

"Oh God, Ricke," she whispered in the silence, and pulled up her legs to her chest, sitting on the toilet seat cover and rocking back and forth, her breath coming in short gasps as she allowed the bottled up feelings to let loose. Her imagination – having been enhanced by both being a cop AND having a writer as a partner – had not stopped working since she'd talked to Alexis. She knew how criminals worked, and this particular one was psychotic. If he didn't like Rick… Oh, God. Closing her eyes, Kate covered her face with her hands, violently forcing the images out of her head. She needed to get a grip before Gates arrived and took her off this case. Kate NEEDED to be on this case, no matter what.

With a shuddering breath, Kate felt that smooth wall rise up, detaching herself from her personal feelings. She was Beckett now; NYPD homicide detective. And she was going to get this son of a bitch no matter what it took.

… BEFORE anything happened to the man she cared for.

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_Castle groaned as he regained consciousness. For one blissful moment he was confuses as to his whereabouts, not recognising the grey walls of the warehouse he seemed to be in. Then the pain kicked in and he cried out as his muscles contracted and cramped, his legs burned like they were burned. Panting heavily, he groaned again and shut his eyes, hoping to shut out the pain along with it. He had no idea how long he'd been here, or how long it would be before the masked man came back. He just hoped it would be later rather than sooner._

_At that moment the door to the warehouse rolled open, and the man walked in. Castle pretending to still be out cold, rolling his head down painfully as he listened hard, trying to muffle his heavy breathing. The man seemed to be angry; he kept kicking boxes and throwing knives around, one coming dangerously close to colliding with Castle's chest._

_Things suddenly got quiet and Castle didn't dare open his eyes again, for fear of what the man would do. A minute later his cover was blown as the now almost familiar block of dry ice was pressed into his other leg. Yelling out to the heavens, Castle envisioned the one face he knew that could get him out of this endless cycle of torture. _Kate... Kate... Please. I need you Kate. Don't give up on me Kate.

_"Kate, eh? Forget it pal - she's not yours for the taking," the man with the mask said, and with a snarl ripped open Castle's shirt to press the fist sized lump of ice straight into his chest._

_Castle's agonised cries echoed hauntingly inside the warehouse, making the very walls shudder._

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><p><em><strong>And there you have it, folks! Let me know what you think in the reviews (remember, what you think of the length), I apologise for any typos andor grammar errors that may have slipped my proof reading, and constructive criticism is welcomed, as always!**_


	3. Chapter 2

**Second chapter is up! Thank you for all your reviews, I am genuinely reading them all and learning more and more. Hope you all like where this is going! Disclaimer: no characters/places/scenes/incidents that are mentioned on the ABC show Castle are mine, and neither are any other pop culture references/other characters that were not a figment of my imagination. The plot and everything else is mine, and I hold it very close to me. This is relevant to ALL my chapters.**

**And without further ado, I present to you, chapter two! (It rhymed, it rhymed!)**

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><p>CHAPTER TWO<p>

"How do you feel, Mr. Stone?" Kate asked not unkindly, as she sat down in front of the young man, the harsh naked lights of the interrogation room causing his sunken eyes and pale skin to stand out even more than before.

"Mmmok," he mumbled in reply, unconsciously touching his shoulder where the bullet from the masked killer's gun had hit him after he stumbled into the crime scene from the bar he'd been occupying. Still a little drunk, Harry Stone was clearly not going to remain lucid for much longer, despite the medical attention given to him. His left shoulder had been patched up as effectively as possible once the meds realized that the bullet had gone straight through, leaving minimal damage in its wake.

For these exact reasons – and because she had no patience to deal with stupidity at the moment, being terribly strung out – Beckett decided to just dive right in. "All right then, I'll need you to tell me everything you saw and heard once you stumbled out of the bar a couple hours ago. Start from bar," she stated, placing her entwined hands on the white table as she held the shaking man's gaze. Harry Stone, twenty four years old, biology student at NYU with a rather impressive list of credentials, including taking a few years off to help others in need all around the country. Just a few months ago his mother died in a car accident, leaving him alone in the world as he had no other parent, no family and no girlfriend he could lean on. By the looks of him now, it appeared life wasn't heading upwards for him.

Stone sighed. "I go to that bar almost every night these days and realized that if I left through the back door I would cut down on two blocks in order to get home, so I've been using that door a few days now. Today, I'd just finished my drink and decided it was time to head home, so I made my way to the backdoor when I heard a man's yell through the door – that area of the bar is always quiet, since they soundproof their walls and all. Anyway, I was scared and didn't open the door for an entire minute, counted the seconds, until I was sure that there would be no more screaming. So I open the door and step out, my eyes searching the dark alley for anything out of the ordinary when I saw them. The man who was murdered, he was just lying there with his chest all exposed, blood gushing everywhere and the other man – the one with the mask and gloves – was writing on the bloody skin. ON HIS CHEST. I screamed, I didn't know what to do… So he shot me and as I fell I saw him run to a bike parked across the street, gun it and leave.

"It was only a few minutes later that your guys came… The backdoor is REALLY rusty, so it takes ages to slide closed once you open it, and I reckon someone must have heard my yell and the gunshot." Stone fell silent, shivering as he clearly relived the moments he had just spilled out in his head, touching his shoulder again.

All the while, Beckett had kept her face impassive, devout of any emotion as she gazed intently at Stone's face. The story he's just told her matched exactly what he had told Esposito back at the crime scene, which lead her to believe it was true. Also, he didn't appear to be in the right state for lying to cops – poor guy looked absolutely petrified. "The man who died, what do you know about him? Did you see him at the bar?" she asked, picking up her pen and prepared to jot down any important pieces of information. It was vital she got everything she could from this man, as he was their only lead at the moment. Or, well, the only lead until she learned more information on the canvas of the crime scene.

At her question, Stone seemed to sag a little, an unhappy expression slightly diminishing the terrified one he currently sported. "Yes, Mr. Hunter and I have come across each other a few times while at the bar. He was really nice… Just gone through a divorce, poor guy. Sometimes we would talk and he would tell me about his job at the bank, or he'd listen to me as I talked. He usually leaves before I do, so I didn't think much of his disappearance," Stone said, shaking his head slightly before perking up, apparently remembering a fact.

"Only, for the last few days he'd been chatting with this other guy almost all the time. He told me only two days ago that he was in finance, apparently something to do with investments and stuff. They talked and talked, and he was there almost every day, chatting to Mr. Hunter," he said.

Beckett's eyebrows rose as she sensed a potential suspect at long last. "This man… What did he look like? Did you catch his name? I need you to tell me everything you know, Mr. Stone," she stated, urgency in her tone.

Stone, if anything, appeared more cheerful now. Or if not cheerful, then at least more awake. He was helping, and therefore he felt better. That was the way of Harry Stone. "No, he never told me his name… He only ever talked to Mr. Hunter, and he in turn didn't tell me the name. He always referred to him as the "investments guy". Anyway, this guy… he's tall, roughly thirty five years old, dark hair, had this deep gravelly voice. He always wore these really big sunglasses; we thought it was weird until he told us he had scars around his eyes and preferred to not show them. I actually felt sorry for him for a while, though he was a creeper for sure. Always wore dark clothing," Stone recalled to Beckett as she frantically jotted down everything he was saying.

"Could you describe what you just told me to a sketch artist? It might help us find this guy…" Beckett said, and stood up. Gathering her things, she was almost at the door when an exclamation from the man made her turn around.

"OH. This might help you… He had a limp. Really strong one at that… I think one of the reasons he loved the bar so much was because it had no stairs. He used to complain about his leg hurting sometimes – nothing too out there, but he'd sometimes wince or go quiet and clutch at it," Stone added, nodding to himself as he remembered before his face grew on a haunted look. "Detective… If he killed Mr. Hunter for no reason, you don't think he's going to kill me too right?"

Beckett sighed and shook her head. "We'll provide you with all the protection you need, Mr. Stone," she said, and swiftly left the room, processing everything she'd just heard. The description he had given did not remind her of anyone she knew… apart from the limp. Vaguely, she recollected having arrested someone with a very serious, pronounced limp. It was a very small shot, but it couldn't hurt to check into it. Castle had actually felt sorry for hi-

No. She couldn't think about him now. Lip quivering, her façade slipping, Kate took a second to compose herself before she went into the room behind the mirror and verify information.

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_Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it._

_Miller paced back and forth in the warehouse, cursing anything and everything under the sun. Richard Castle was out cold – his face twisted at the pun – and was absolutely pathetic. It was hard to believe he'd been side to side with Katherine Beckett for four years now, and still be such a wimp. Removing the mask off of his face, he threw it down with frustration, kicking it across the floor and yelling out as his bad leg disagreed with the sudden movement._

_This was his problem. Once things went according to plan, once actions were unfolding in the manner he liked, he became careless. Tonight could have EASILY been avoided, and he could have taunted her a little more. He was always lured into this false sense of security and that's when he made mistakes. Hell, he'd ended up in PRISON for a reckless mistake like that. Only back then it wasn't murders he was committing, but rather a different type of crime. A nobler one._

_After getting out, Miller would have happily continued in that line of work if it hadn't been for Katherine Beckett. She was a homicide detective and therefore had nothing to do with his area. Miller had plotted these murders for years, easily concealing them from the prying eyes of the jailers and psychologists, getting paroled out after three years on good behavior. Kidnapping Castle had been surprisingly easy, as had been the four murders he committed. A gruesome smile appeared on his face as he remembered the careful planning he'd done to making sure he wasn't making any mistakes. Calculated murders, verifying that there was no connection between them, learning how to carve that heart into their chests… It was all for her._

_Shooting the writer a loathing look, Miller grabbed the envelope he'd prepared and made his way laboriously to his bike. After this, he would take a nice long rest and give this goddamned leg a break. The engine roared into life and Miller sped out of the warehouse, only remembering that he had forgotten his mask and sunglasses once he was halfway to the precinct. He had half a mind to turn around and get them before he shrugged off the thought. She would know who he is soon enough… His mistake earlier tonight had made sure of it._

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"Detective Beckett! Detective Beckett!" a uniform the detective had never met ran into the department, making a beeline for her, clutching a plastic bag with a white piece of paper inside it. Puzzled, Beckett frowned and held out her hand, but it seemed the uniform had something to say. "Just a minute ago, a guy came around to the precinct, saying he had to drop off something for you. Naturally we were suspicious, but before any of us could do anything he dropped off this piece of paper and ran out, hopped on a black bike and headed off downtown," he said, panting slightly and held out the envelope for her to open.

Taking it, Beckett put it aside for now despite her curiosity. "Get a sketch artist and try and see if the person you saw matched the guy that our witness to the murder saw. This guy; was he limping?" she asked the young officer.

In turn, he nodded. "Badly, detective. But he seemed to be used to it because he was hell fast," he said, then turned as the sketch artist arrived – apparently having been in the area and heard the conversation – to show him the sketch of the guy who murdered today. The uniform nodded to both Beckett and the artist. "That's definitely him… And I can help with the area covered by the sunglasses," he said, and the two men walked off as he began rattling a description.

Watching them walk, Beckett bit her lip as she looked down at the envelope. As Ryan and Esposito came over, she pulled on a pair of gloves and reached inside the bag to pull out the envelope. On the blank side, in the same hand writing as the black marker on their most recent victim, were the words "DEAR KB – WITH LOVE, JM. REMEMBER ME?"

Her brow furrowed in concentration, she slipped a hand inside the unsealed envelope and pulled out… a phone. A simple phone, very old school. Taken by surprise, she handed it carefully to Ryan and Esposito, who in turn stared at it before Ryan piped up. "Perhaps there's a message on it? Or a number? A phone call? Recording?"

… It was a recording. It was Esposito who pressed the play button and, as if the whole precinct knew something bad was going to happen, suddenly everything went quiet. Everything, apart from the phone.

"AAAAARRGH! NO NO PLEASE, NO! STOP! STOPPPPP! PLEASE I- KATE, OH KATE PLEASE GOD SOMEO- AAAARGH NO HELP ME OH GOD! PLEASE I BEG YOU I BEG OF YOU PLEASE DON'T, NO, NO MORE I CAN'T TA- AAAARRGGHHH!"

All colour had drained from the three detectives standing around the table. The recording went on and on for no less than five whole minutes, and it was clear the torture wasn't done when it broke off. The silence that followed after it was something none of them would ever forget. Esposito and Ryan both slammed their fists onto the desk, sending the phone clattering down to the ground, unharmed. A string of curses was heard as they ranted, enraged beyond recognition.

Beckett – Kate – had frozen up. Her hands had gripped the table so hard her knuckles were turning white, all the muscles in her body tense. Long after the recording stopped she would hear Castle's – Rick's – screaming, calling out her name, begging for it to stop. _OH GOD._ Biting her lip so hard she drew blood, she dared not move. Wave upon wave of rage, hurt, responsibility, fury, pain and guilt crashed over her and she was drowning. Unable to hear anything else but the haunting echoes of his suffering, unable to see anything other than his smile turned upside down, him being tortured, being hurt so wrongly… It enveloped her, it suffocated her. She wasn't even sure by now if the recording was still playing or not, she was hearing it so vividly. Her NAME… She was failing him. A trained homicide detective, she couldn't even prevent her partner – who didn't have the privilege of carrying a gun – from being kidnapped. Kate felt as if she was drowning… lower and lower she was sinking, and with each passing second knew that her chances of getting back to the surface were smaller and smaller. _Kate, oh Kate please …_

"Beckett... BECKETT… KATE," a foggy voice that she was able to finally determine as Ryan's shook her back to reality. "Kate," he repeated, his eyes soft and full of worry and unabashed pity as they gazed down at her. Realising for the first time that her mouth was hanging open, she shut her jaw and blinked, horrified to find hot drops of moisture rolling down her cheeks.

In a trance, she let go of the table and reached up to touch her cheeks, feeling the tears more with her fingers than she could with her cheeks. She was CRYING.

"Kate, if you want to sit this one ou-" Esposito began, placing an understanding hand on her shoulder. Whipping her head around to look at him, she flung off his hand and stood up, using her emotions to fuel the need to catch this bastard.

"Say that one more time and I will personally see to it you lose your badge. Go see if the sketch is done yet – I should be able to identify this dirtbag. Ryan, have them check for prints and see if anything about this phone can lead you to his whereabouts. We do not sleep, we do not take a break until we catch this piece of shit. He's got CASTLE, everyone. Go!" she ordered, and used the side of her shirt to wipe the moisture off her face. She wasn't helping anything by crying.

She wasn't helping Richard by crying.

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><p><em><strong>And there you have it! Nice little link below the story that you should all click on! ;) This time, I'd like you to please tell me about the content in here - too much for one chapter? Too little? How's the pace? I can't please you if you don't tell me what you like. (That sounded dirtier than I meant it!) Review, hope you like, and see you all in chapter three!<strong>_


	4. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! Sorry for not updating yesterday; the chapter was looking icky so I rewrote it all. Hope it turned out ok this time, 'cause I reckon it's pretty good. ^_^ Disclaimer: No characters/places/scenes/incidents that are mentioned on the ABC show Castle are mine, and neither are any other pop culture references/other characters that were not a figment of my imagination. The plot and everything else is mine, and I hold it very close to me. This is relevant to ALL my chapters. Enjoy and let me know what you think! It's slightly longer this time. (:**

**A bit about the rating: I kept it at a 'T' but if you're a bit squeamish when it comes to torture/pain then you might want to just skip through some parts. There are a few inappropriate words (well, two, I think) but other than that, still a 'T'. If you guys think it should be an 'M' let me know in the comments and I'll bump the rating. Thank you!**

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><p>CHAPTER THREE<p>

"Wakey wakey Richard Castle," the low voice of his kidnapper sounded in his ears, and Castle stirred. Blinking, he straightened up a little in his chair and looked around. Nothing had changed since he had last been conscious – it was still dark outside, it was still empty inside and he was still here. He grimaced as the aftershocks of the pain he had experienced before hit him and he fisted his hands tightly to prevent himself from yelling, instead staring daggers at the man with the mask. The man with the mask and the dry ice.

In return, the man gave him a dark grin and two thumbs up. "Missed you while you were out… In fact, I grew so bored of you reenacting the Sleeping Beauty that I paid your friends a visit," he stated, pulling up a chair and sitting down in front of Castle, leaning his arms on the backrest.

"What did you do?" Castle rasped, his voice startlingly weak after the hours of screaming it had endured.

The man raised his hands in mock innocence. "Nothing, scout's honour. Only dropped something off… I promise nothing explosive. We wouldn't want pretty little Katherine Beckett's face to be ruined now, do we?" he said, and reached out to pinch one of Castle's cheeks before slapping him. "That would be such a shame."

Maintaining whatever dignity he had left, Castle didn't utter a word, though his mind was racing a mile a minute as the pain lessened and his brain cleared. This was the most they'd talked since the guy had taken him from outside the apartment, and Castle had no way to judge how long ago that was. It was still dark outside but he could have been here for days, weeks, months, according to how he felt. His clothes were tattered and torn, his chest exposed as the throbbing continued to ebb from the place where he had been dry iced. His shins and knees were completely bare, the fabric having been literally split away to make it possible for the man to torture him. Judging from the sticky feeling on his face, Castle guessed that he was covered in blood, and perhaps even sporting a broken nose as he was finding it hard to breathe from it. His arms were stiff and sore from being tied behind him for hours, not to mention his wrists which were beginning to bleed from the tenderness. On top of all that, he was pretty sure his neck and back muscles had stiffened as well, from the continuous slumping and lack of movement.

And yet, through all that, he spared himself little thought. Instead, the author's mind went to Alexis and his mother who probably worried sick at home, wondering where he was. There was no doubt that they'd called the precinct to report him missing, which meant that by now Beckett must know he was gone. Kate… He had difficulty wrapping his brain around how she must be feeling. Knowing his partner, she was probably walking on eggshells, trying to stay out of Gates' way – if Gates was even there - while at the same time continuing to work on the case, determined to see it through. By now Castle had figured that this guy was also the one who had killed the four other victims – his van was proof of that. Kate probably blamed herself for his mess though, which made Castle feel possibly worse than he was already - the last thing he'd ever wanted was to cause her discomfort. A sarcastic voice in his mind reproached him for being so selfless, and he had to wonder when that had started. A few years back, no one else would have been on his mind right now other than him. Alexis, perhaps.

His thoughts then went to the kidnapper's words. Dropped something off at the precinct? Knowing Kate? This worried him. Worried him more than the possibility of getting dry iced again, apparently. "What.. What did you do?" he repeated, his voice no stronger than it was before, his face grim.

The man with the mask smiled. "I gave her a phone… So nice of me, don't you think? Recently paroled out of prison and already I'm getting people gifts – you should all give me a medal," he laughed, the sound reverberating hauntingly in the large space of the warehouse. "But see," he said conversationally, and leaned in closer to Castle, tipping his chair forward. "On that phone, there was this very special recording… Featuring none other than the infamous Richard Castle." He grinned and tapped Castle's nose almost affectionately, as if he was proud of him. "You've got some pipes on you, you know that? Ever considered another line of work?" he laughed, and pulled out another phone identical to the one he gave the detective, wiggled it for the author, and pressed a few buttons before looking back up at Castle.

The author's face drained of what little blood had begun to seep into it as he stared, open mouthed, at his kidnapper inches from him, as he pressed the central button on the phone and his own yells and screams began to echo from it. Stiffening, Castle clenched up, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to not listen as the same recording that had been played at the precinct was played for him. Yelling, screaming, shouting, begging… Endless amounts of it. Gritting his teeth, he felt sympathy pain for Beckett which caused his own wounds to jolt ebbs of pain even worse than when they had actually been created through his system. Blinding agony coursed in his veins and he began to wonder if the recording was still playing, or if he was the one yelling. He was losing his mind, he could feel it. He couldn't take much more of this, he just couldn't. Behind his closed eyelids Castle was reliving the moments that were recorded on the phone, feeling the cold dry ice burn his skin, feeling his wrists being torn open by the ropes, feeling his leg muscles strain as he clenched and unclenched them repeatedly, trying to minimize the pain in his system… feeling as the masked man ripped open his shirt and press scorching ice right onto his chest.

Suddenly, it all stopped as a bucket of iced water crashed down on him and he gasped, shivering in the freezing temperatures. Blinking several times, Castle returned to reality. "Hey there, bud – got you back?" the man with the mask asked, patting him none too gently on the shoulder as Castle spluttered and spit out the water he had inadvertently inhaled. He almost yelled out again as the harsh coldness made contact with his burns, but managed instead to hold his tongue. From the taste of blood in his mouth again and a sharp, searing pain, the author figured he bitten his already swollen tongue.

"What do you want from me?" he growled, glaring up at the man as he walked back into his sight with as much ferocity as he could muster. Drops of water and little pieces of ice continued to slide down his face, chest and legs, freezing up places that had previously been unharmed. And yet, despite his violent shivering, he held his gaze.

The masked man laughed again. "Why, Ricky boy, why should I tell you when you're already doing a marvelous job as it is? If that was your reaction to the recording, just_ imagine_ what it must have been like for her to hear it. You were expecting it, sort of, she had no idea. Pretty neat, right? I wish now I'd have stuck around to see her face but you know, an NYPD precinct is not really a safe place for someone like me. Though I bet my parole officer would be happy," the man laughed, as if to himself, and turned away from Castle to walk to an area not too far from them where a van was parked, its back doors not facing Castle.

The author watched him walk in silence, trying to wrap his head around this guy as he panted, attempting to adjust to the new freezing sensation. Immediately his mind flashed back to those unforgettable two days, when he and Kate had almost died… twice. Once, from a dirty bomb intended on killing the entire population of New York City and the day before that, frozen inside an ice container. Those had been the worst two days of his life, rivaled possibly by the day when his partner, his muse, his best friend, had been shot right in front of him, and he hadn't done a thing to prevent it. He had been too late. A horrible notion occurred to him at that moment – what if he never saw Beckett again? What if he never got to tell Kate everything he'd always wanted to say? The notion that he might die before setting the record straight left him as breathless as a cube of dried ice to the chest did.

Tugging uselessly on his ropes, Castle growled in frustration and looked back to the man, pouring all the hate he had ever felt out to him, hoping the mere violence of his thoughts would strike him down. Sadly – no such luck. Castle did however notice a fact that had escaped him before; the masked man had a limp. Narrowing his eyes, Castle stared at him as he walked further and further, the limp becoming more pronounced and obviously paining him. A small bell rang in the back of his head and he frowned, suddenly feeling like there was something he was missing. The man's voice, the man's snarky attitude, his limp… He had encountered him before. Castle mentally slapped himself on the head as it came to him. _Of course! _He KNEW them. They had arrested him for… something. But it was so long ago; it was one of the very first cases he had worked with Kate.

If he knew them… What did that mean? Was he angry at Castle for arresting him? Technically speaking, that had been Beckett since he had no actual jurisdiction in the police department. Between him and Beckett, Castle was somewhat glad that it was him and not her that the psycho had taken, for at least Beckett could keep her head level and figure this out. He would have melted into a puddle of anxiety. But why not take the detective that had arrested you? There was something he was missing here. From his snarky speech, Castle would guess that he was on the dangerous side of crazy – the one where it's not immediately obvious. And if he had been paroled, just like he said, then he must have also fooled the parole office AND the psychologists at the prison. A shiver ran down his back that had nothing to do with the melting ice chips in his lap.

"Missed me?" the man piped up, returning from the van with something Castle could not quite make out in the gloom, panting laboriously from the effort it was costing him to walk so much. Upon reaching him, he set whatever it was down on the ground and strode until he was facing Castle directly, kicking away the chair he'd previously been sitting on.

"To be perfectly honest? No," the author replied, cocking his head to the side as he looked up at the masked man's face, a small smile reminiscent of his usual self spreading on his face. His attitude seemed to surprise the kidnapper, for he did not have a retort ready fast enough before Castle continued. "I was wondering, why not just kill me and be done with it? I'm sure Beckett would be horrified to see that and that's what you want, right? To punish her for putting you in prison. What with your bad leg and all, it must have been awful in there."

Snarling, the man raised a fist and landed it in Castle's face, hearing a satisfying crunching sound as blood began to flow. If his nose had not been broken before, it certainly was now. "Shut your mouth, you don't know nothing about me asshole," he said, then grinned more to himself and he lifted up another phone he had brought from the car.

"See this? This is me recording another message for our detective. Only this time, I want you to give her a message, understood? I would like you to tell her to come here and to come alone – she'll trace the phone, it's easy enough. I've been waiting for a long time; I don't want to wait any longer. While you're at it, also let her know that I have cameras surrounding ALL entrances in and out of this area, and if I see so much as ONE extra person, police or not, you die. I have no qualms about killing Richard Castle… Your books are crap and you annoy the shit out of me with your pathetic ways," he stated, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion, though Castle knew nothing of the growing excitement within him. However this would work out, he was going to see her again. And it would be spectacular.

"Oh, and you'll be saying all that while I have a bit of fun, all right? I have recently found that hurting you grants me great joy, and you might not be alive for too long so I want to enjoy what little time we have left – you don't mind, do you? Not like you can do much, trapped there. A little embarrassing to be so helpless, don't you think?" the kidnapper and killer said, before pulling out a knife and a blowtorch. Castle's eyes widened as he shrank back, his attitude evaporating as quickly as it had come. Fiddling with the phone, he began recording and nodded to Castle, who took a shaking breath and began. "Castle here," he started, trying to put on a false bright voice when the blowtorch was turned on… right on the place where the ice had been earlier.

An unearthly yell echoed from his lungs as he stiffened, the smell of burning skin and flesh so strong it was making his eyes water. "Do continue, dear Castle," the killer said over the yells, his voice as even tempered as ever. "K-Kate… c-c-come here, al-alo- AAARRGHHH," he yelled again as the man with the mask sliced through the burn with the knife, and pulled both instruments away as Castle panted.

"Continue." The blowtorch pointed to yet another burn and all the while Castle's agony was being recorded on the small, inconspicuous phone.

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"Jared Miller, 32 years old. Was arrested three years ago for scamming and got paroled out on good behavior. The address listed is a fake and there are no traces of him since his release," Kate read off the file, going over the facts in her head again and again, memorizing each little thing she could about the case she had solved all that time ago. With Castle. Almost all of it fell into place now; though why he had kidnapped Castle and not her was beyond anyone's understanding. According to the report in prison he was a very shy, very quiet inmate, always hounded due to his unfortunate limping condition, certainly not capable of committing five horrific murders and then kidnapping and torturing a famous author to antagonize the detective who had arrested him. Clever and witty, he would more often than not stay in his room and read, or play chess with others like him.

If her memory served her well, Kate was absolutely sure that she had given him a fair deal. The scam he had been involved with had resulted in a murder, and because all the evidence pointed to him, he had decided to cooperate and get an easier sentence rather than to be charged with homicide and face a jury in court. She also remembered that he had seemed like such a sweet guy, once you overlooked the scamming and excellent acting skills. Raised by a druggie mother who had no money to pay for treatments to his bad leg, Jared had therefore suffered permanent damage and has been limping since. On some days it's better, other days it's worse. The money he got off his scams went mostly to his medical bills, physiotherapy and insurance, and the rest to living a comfortable life. The murder in his case was never supposed to have happened, and clearly had left him deeply scarred. After all, the girl who was murdered had been the girl he was going to marry.

Shaking her head, she stole a glance at the watch and gasped. What with everything that had been going on, she had forgotten to check the time and, counting back, realized that Castle had now spent more than three hours with Miller, who clearly did not care for him. The thought made her sick to her stomach, so she hurriedly put herself back in detective mode and looked back up at the board. What she didn't understand were his messages and letters. All this had the markings of a guy who wanted to get revenge on the person who had incarcerated him, yet what was with all the hearts? The apparent 'gifts' he was leaving her? It just didn't make sense.

They found no prints on the phone he had dropped off, although there had been a tiny drop of blood on it that, after testing, had turned out to be Castle's. That revelation had shaken them and they had worked even faster after that, running to and fro to try and work out where the hell this guy was. In the end though, all that work was for nothing as he seemed like he wanted to be found.

The beeping and vibrating of the phone in the evidence pile had everybody go quiet. With unsteady hands, Beckett saw that a text message had been received from an unknown number, and it contained another recording. "Ryan, Esposito," she beckoned to them, and all three huddled around the phone as she pressed play.

The almost familiar sounds of Castle's screams filled the room again and Kate breathed in and out steadily, fighting against the panic rising within her to keep cool. She couldn't lose her head again, she just couldn't. She began to tune out the recording when she recognized her name again. "Rick…" she whispered, eyes suddenly bright as she stared down at the phone, then grimaced as he continued to talk in between yells. Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, she jotted down the entire message, forcing herself to stop shaking. There was no reason to have to listen to this recording twice.

By the time it had ended, all three of them were sporting white, ashen faces and clutching their respective notebooks so hard they began to bend out of shape. It was Ryan who first pulled out of the stupor. "He wants you to come, and he wants you to come alone. Beckett, I don't think this is a good idea," he said, turning to her with a stern yet worried look.

"Neither," Esposito added, nodding his head and agreeing with his partner. "This screams trap, and you have no idea what you'll find when you get there. He was a con artist, he's about as calculated as they come," he stated, staring down at the message Castle had given them, mid yells and screams of agony.

White-faced and tightlipped, Beckett stood and grasped the phone, ignoring both her comrades. "Trace this message; find out where Miller is. I want NO ONE to be walking there, and I AM going in alone. I'm a trained NYPD homicide detective; I've dealt with crazy before," she stated, her voice commanging, flat and emotionless, as she stared defiantly at Ryan and Esposito.

Reluctantly they nodded and in a few minutes they knew exactly where Jared Miller, and consequently Castle, was. The whole department was buzzing with activity now as the people still there went to and fro to try and figure out a way for them to protect Beckett without appearing on Miller's vast array of cameras in the warehouse area beside the river.

The elevator ride down the precinct was a somber affair. Ryan and Esposito had succumbed to the inevitable and were going to try and work on a backup plan should Beckett get into trouble. And Beckett would get into trouble, they all knew it – there just wasn't anything they could do about it if they didn't want Castle to die.

"Remember, the whole area is a massive grid – cover all the exits so if he tries to leave the warehouse area you'll know. I've got the camera on me, so you'll know where I am the whole time – just watch, and wait for the right moment," she said, and stepped into the car, turned the engine on and drove away, a grim determination settling around her.

Behind her, Ryan and Esposito got into their van and followed at a much slower pace, wary of their surroundings and once they neared the area, began to drive around in circles. Silent police cars were all around the exits to the grid of warehouses just as Beckett had instructed, and there was nothing more for them to do other than wait. Wait and watch through the camera, and hope for the best.

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><p><em><strong>What do you think? I need criticism! Click that lovely box, you know you secretly want to! Until next time;<strong>_

_**~Dani**_


	5. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! First off, so sorry for the sudden unannounced absence - I had this massive case of blockage and couldn't shake it. BUT, you know what kept me going? Your reviews! Seriously, I know many people say that and you readers probably don't believe it anymore but I swear they help writing. It gives me motivation when I know people actually care enough to take those two minutes to review something, so thanks!**

**Disclaimer: No characters/places/scenes/incidents that are mentioned on the ABC show Castle are mine, and neither are any other pop culture references/other characters that were not a figment of my imagination. The plot and everything else is mine, and I hold it very close to me. This is relevant to ALL my chapters.**

**Have fun!**

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><p>CHAPTER FOUR<p>

Driving slowly in the grid of the warehouses, Kate swallowed the panic that was building within her. Hearing those recordings, knowing what sadistic men were capable of when they wanted something… Whatever shape Castle was in at the moment, the detective knew she was not ready, and would never be ready for it. To distract herself she kept a lookout for the cameras Miller had said he had placed around the area. He might have been exaggerating as to their numbers but he definitely had more than a few set up on the main roads. Beckett stared up at them with distaste, bile rising up in her throat at the thought of him watching her now as she drove.

The detective almost didn't notice she had arrived until she almost passed the warehouse. Unbuckling her seat belt, she pulled the key from the ignition and stepped out, gun in both hands as she looked around the area before allowing her eyes to settle on the gigantic warehouse number 42 in front of her. She swung the door of the car shut behind her, the loud noise startling the eerie silence that surrounded the area. The hours before dawn were always the coldest and she shivered slightly as a sudden gust of wind blew through the narrow space between the structures, carrying with it the familiar smell of the Hudson River.

Taking a deep breath, Kate began cautiously stepping towards the entrance of the warehouse, the massive structure imposing down at her as she walked. The blood pounded in her ears as her gun visibly shook in her hands, and Kate grimaced. She couldn't go in looking like this. Her bullets might actually hit Castle if they came to a shooting match. Forcing herself to breathe, she inhaled and exhaled a few times, feeling the gun steady and without waiting for herself to get worked up again, kicked open the door to the warehouse and with a resounding crash stepped into the darkness.

Instantly, she knew she was alone. Biting her lip to refrain from yelling in frustration, Kate instead reached into her pocket to pull out her torch, which she turned on and pointed out into the dimness swiftly. Her heels clicked loudly in the silence of the gigantic warehouse, causing echoes to reverberate around her. She swung the beam to and fro, expecting to find something – anything – that could show her where the hell Castle and Miller were when it hit a table off towards the other side of the warehouse. Picking up speed, she jogged lightly towards the table and stopped beside it, lowering her gun.

Clearly, this was where Miller had kept Castle. The yellow light from the torch gleamed off the blood patches on the floor and she had to look away, the sheer amount of it scaring her. This night needed to end soon, before Castle died of blood loss. On the table was a computer, its monitor currently switched off and a webcam on top of it, a tiny red light indicating that it was on. Gingerly, she turned on the monitor and blinked as the harsh glare of the screen lit up the otherwise dark warehouse. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness, then a few seconds more for her to actually comprehend what it was exactly that she was seeing.

Fighting against her jaw dropping and her heart plummeting, Beckett turned away from one half of the screen and pointedly only looked at the other, where Miller was grinning back at her with a wink and a wave. Setting her jaw, Beckett forced herself to breathe.

"Detective! So nice of you to show up," Miller began, his voice surprisingly loud as it came out of the speakers – they must be turned on full volume. "I see you went by my instructions; good call there. This guy would have been dead twice over had you not," he nodded to his left side, where the picture cut away to reveal Castle. "But let's not talk about matters so dark and unpleasant. I find that in situations where more than a few people want me either dead or locked up, lighting the mood helps," Miller smiled, and widened the gap between his hands, as if inviting Beckett in for a hug.

"Just a few last minute requests from you and then we can be off. Firstly dear, could you take out our gun – yes, the one behind your back – and place it on the table?" he stated with a conversational smile, his eyebrows raised.

Breathing hard by now, Beckett shook her head and opened her mouth to begin speaking when Miller raised a hand, shook his head as if disappointed and pulled a lever behind him. Beckett's eyes immediately turned to the screen that showed Castle and watched, nauseated, as a curtain of obviously scalding water – it steamed and almost fogged up the camera completely – rained down on him, causing his already mutilated body to twist and turn pathetically, as if trying to escape the torture it was currently in. Although she couldn't hear him, Beckett imagined he was making the most horrific sounds. Hastily, she took out her gun and placed it on the table, and the water stopped.

"Good girl."

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In their van not too far off, Ryan and Esposito watched and listened to the proceedings inside the warehouse, their disgust and rage evident on their faces. Ryan, on his part, couldn't stop staring at the screen that showed Castle, while Esposito was trying to look anywhere but. The author was tied to a chair in what appeared to be a tiled room – a tiny bathroom, probably – while the floor all around him was a faded red, probably from his blood. Even with the blurry state the screen was right now, it was clear that he had bruises, burns and cuts all over his person. The site was surreal to them – almost too out of place to be true. This was Castle sitting in that chair… Not someone they didn't have any prior connection to. It was their beloved meddler, the guy who ran around excited over the most random things, the person who could make any boring case seem interesting… And this Miller ass had put him in this state. Whatever Beckett was going through right now, the two detectives hoped that she was at least pouring some of her thoughts into taking down Miller.

_"Detective! So nice of you to show up."_

Ryan and Esposito started as the surprisingly loud voice boomed through, then focused on Miller's screen as he talked, listening intently as he talked, his voice causing bile to rise in their throat. "I swear I'm going to make sure this guy's put away for life, no parole, no easy going, no NOTHING," Esposito growled as the boiling water rained down on Castle, making both of them wince. Beckett's hard breathing was so loud it was picked up by the small microphone installed with the camera and Ryan shook his head, mumbling under his breath and turned away until the water stopped flowing.

"Dude," Esposito patted his partner's shoulder, not unkindly, and Ryan turned back to the screens in time to watch Beckett's hand place the gun on the table. Blowing out a breath, they listened intently as Miller's soft chuckles filled their earphones, fists whitening as he clearly enjoyed the proceedings.

"Good. Second thing honey; see those earphones behind the monitor? Pop those in and connect them; don't want any eavesdroppers… At least where audio is concerned," he said, then winked at Beckett's chest. Or, rather, at Ryan and Esposito, who were outraged. How the HELL?

"I'm with you man. Life, no parole, worst treatment… Send him back in time to Alcatraz for all I care," Ryan seethed and watched, unable to do anything, as Beckett's shaking hands went to the earphones and plugged the end of them into the monitor, effectively making sure they could no longer hear anything.

He continued to talk, and seemed to be laughing now. Ryan and Esposito's brows furrowed as a sudden jump back from Beckett jolted their view and they each bolted upwards, hands going to their guns reflexively. But then she straightened again and a trickle of boiling water began to pour on Castle before Beckett put two hands up in front of the screen, apparently agreeing to whatever the third request was.

At first they were confused, as Beckett's hands went down to the edge of her shirt. The camera jolted violently and they heard a small, tinny sound. Perplexed, they stared at each other, wondering what exactly was going on when the sound came again, after another violent jolt of the camera. "Wait-"

"He didn't…"

"She isn't…"

"She IS!"

"Bastard. asshole, motherfu-"

"Javi! … Oh, whatever. He deserves it. Go ahead."

Murderously, they glared at the screen as Beckett's hands – as they had expected – reached the camera. She paused for a second, obviously taking a breath, before her finger covered their screen. Seconds later, their vision tilted upwards as the button that contained their camera was dropped to the floor, the impact shaking the screen badly. Both detectives had to look away to rid the sense of vertigo.

Both wincing as if they had fallen as the button hit the floor, they watched as the last few buttons joined the probably pool of them on the floor and Beckett's shirt – now exposing the bulletproof vest she wore underneath – swayed slightly, indecently open and revealing. Muttering curses under their breath, it was all they could do to lower their eyes as Beckett grabbed her shirt and with her hands pulled it closed, clearly shivering in the cold.

Apparently Miller conversed with her for a few more minutes, because Beckett didn't move an inch yet her face just kept getting more and more grim. Occasionally she spoke, but with the angle of the camera and microphone now, they couldn't tell what she was saying, nor could they see the screen. They could guess, however, that twice during Miller and Beckett's talk Castle got burned, as Beckett's expression grew an almost nauseated look, combined with seething fury and a strange look that they couldn't really place.

Sooner than later, she was moving again. Using only one hand to hold her shirt closed, she used the other to begin disconnecting the computer, yanking it out of the power. Confused, Ryan and Esposito could only stare as she slowly but surely broke down the computer, clearly following Miller's orders as Beckett was not that tech savvy. It was also apparent that it wasn't the large computer keeping the monitor alive as the harsh light was still illuminating the detective's face. Finding whatever it was that she was looking for, Beckett dropped it on the floor and smashed it with the heel of her shoe, the crack abnormally loud in their earphones.

Looking back at the monitor, Beckett appeared to nod at whatever it was that he was saying, and pulled out the earphones. Miller's voice suddenly spouted out of the computer speakers, hard to detect from their own camera's position on the floor but not impossible as it was so loud. "… step out of the warehouse, leave everything as you did. Make sure your hands are up and bare – we wouldn't want your pretty body marred by any bullet holes," Miller said and cleared his throat. "Go now. You have ten seconds."

As soon as he said this, the monitor, camera and everything switched off. Panicked now, Ryan and Esposito's noses were all but glued to the screen as they waited to see what Beckett would do. They didn't need to wait long. "Harbour. Boat," she yelled, clearly for them, and took off at a sprint… away from the entrance?

The two detectives blinked. "Where's she going? If he wanted her to leave the warehouse, then where the hell is she going?"

"There's probably a second entrance. She said boat. Come on – he's by the river now. Let's go let's go!"

Hurrying, Ryan flew to the driver's spot as Esposito sent out a signal to everyone else, letting them know what had transpired, the van giving a horrible lurch as Ryan pressed his foot down hard on the gas pedal. Haphazard driving and a few tense minutes later they were beside the river and both detectives jumped out, hearts racing as they held their guns upright, searching for any signs of a boat that Beckett might have meant. But, just as Ryan had predicted as they had pulled up, he was already gone. The guy was too clever to get caught like this.

Frustrated, Esposito just managed to refrain from kicking the van's side as he stared out at the empty black water. "Come on… Let's canvas the area. Look for boat signals. This guy can't think of everything."

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As soon as Beckett stepped foot on the white boat, it gave a horrible lurch and she was forced to grab hold of the railing. Speeding away from the quay and towards what appeared to be up the river, the detective steeled herself before stepping forward, one leg at a time, until she reached the door to the inside of the boat. Pulling it open, she felt a pang as she realized her gun was no longer with her, but nevertheless continued onwards. As it was pitch dark both outside and inside, she had to put up with feeling her way around, looking for some source of illumination. Truthfully, she was more than a little surprised by the cold welcome she was receiving. After everything Miller did to secure himself both her and Castle on his boat, she'd have thought that he would have at least come out to greet her. A sharp turn revealed a door on the far side of the corridor that had a thin scrap of light shining under it.

Quickening her pace, she paused an inch away from the door, suddenly hesitant. What was she supposed to do? Knock on the stupid thing? Heart racing a mile a minute, the loss of her weapon on her person and the unfamiliarity of the situation haunting her, the detective was forced to conclude that her judgment wasn't at its peak at the moment. And Castle… He was in here somewhere. She just had to find him. Find him, somehow get off this boat and get him to a hospital, where she'd make sure he would stay.

_Castle._ Just the thought of him sent shivers up and down her spine. Whatever she was going through… It was nothing compared to him. She'd seen the blood spatters, she'd heard the recordings, she knew violence when she saw it. And Miller had all the signs of being a cold blooded, sadistic torturer. He probably enjoyed it. All because of her. If he hadn't been shadowing her none of this would have happened. If they hadn't been so offhanded about his safety he wouldn't have been kidnapped.

At that moment, the door flew open and for the second time that night she was forced to blink rapidly at the quick change in lighting. Bright yellow lamps illuminated the plain room and once Beckett's eyes adjusted, she realized that Miller was standing right in front of her. Gasping, she was about to take a step back when he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

He was strong, she'd give him that. But he had a limp, and so he had a weakness. Aiming a kick at his knee, she only got halfway there when she felt herself being unceremoniously being picked by two very powerful hands. Beckett didn't even have time to acknowledge surprise when her head collided with the low ceiling of the boat and she lost consciousness.

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"Beckett? Beckett? Kate? Please, please say you're alive. Please say you're ok, Kate, please."

The voice echoed as if it was very far away and very close at the same time. Also, it was familiar. What was going on? Where was she? What was that voice? Why was there such an… odd feeling about her? Groaning, Kate rolled her head, feeling the pounding start almost before she took in a breath. Something about how she was feeling was very… wrong. It was hot. It was way too hot. And sticky. And wet. Half wet. Half sticky, half wet. Frowning, she stirred and heard water slosh around her. What in the world… ?

Blinking, she suddenly sat up, her eyes flying open as her head swam. She was lying down in pinkish, off clear water that was so hot it was creating steam, as the whole room was partially invisible apart from the white swirls. White tiled room, full of steam and-

"Castle!" In a second she had hurried up from the floor, almost slipping, and made her way to him, ignoring the active thumping going on in her head.

"You're alive! Oh, God, Beckett I thought you were dead… They brought you in and you were just lying there in this massive pool of blood," he half mumbled half groaned, his haggard face full of misplaced concern for her.

Almost giddy with relief over him being ok - ok being a relative term in this situation; ok meant not dead and not too seriously maimed - Kate almost managed to crack a smile. "I'm fine – survived worse, as I'm sure you know," she stated, waving off his comments as she took in his appearance, possibly even worse in reality than she had ever dreamed. Looking at him hurt almost as much as the pounding in her head, the sympathy pain sending aches all over her body. His eyes were sunken into his skull, lined with thick bruises of varying shades, ranging from sickly yellow to dark blue, purple and black. The rest of his face was covered in red marks and cuts, a few still actively bleeding. Half his head was drenched in sticky blood, clearly from a wound similar to hers, also still bleeding a little.

But his face was nothing compared to the rest of him. His chest, arms and legs were covered in what appeared to multiple burns. Varying degrees, varying types, varying sizes yet all burns. In a few of them – and Beckett had to bite back a cry as she gazed at this monstrosity – there were large cuts, not too deep yet enough to cause unimaginable pain. Even in places where his skin had no visible wounds he was completely red – probably from the scalding water that had been her fault. All of this… her fault. She'd almost thought it was over when she caught side of his chafed wrists. Underneath the redness, he was deathly pale… Pale enough to need immediate medical attention.

"Oh, Castle," she whispered, helplessly looking at him as she kneeled down beside his chair, not even wincing as her knees made contact with first the hot water, then the tiles of the bathroom.

In his turn, the writer made a movement with his shoulders that would have been shrugging had he not been tied up to the chair. "What can I say; Miller didn't know 'apples' was my word," he said and managed half a grin, eliciting a half choked sob, half laugh from Beckett as she looked at him incredulously.

"How you can still joke at a time like this is beyond me," she whispered, reaching up to gingerly place a hand on his shoulder.

He sighed. "Detective Beckett, I don't know how long I've been with Miller, but I feel as if it's been decades. So, yes, I can crack a joke," he said, and squirmed uncomfortably in his bonds.

Apparently seeing the ropes for the first time, Beckett realized that while they were here, she might as well ease a little of his pain. Lifting her hands, she started to rise when a gasp from him stopped her short. "What is it?"

"What did he do to you? Kate, did he… I… He didn't, did he? Oh, God, Kate, why is your shirt open?" Castle asked, eyes wide, then promptly looked away from her and down at his knees.

Frowning, she looked down at herself for the first time since waking up, confused. The sight that met her caused her to feel faint… Fainter than before, if possible. Her vest was gone and so had her jacket. Her shoes were no longer on her feet and her trousers were torn and twisted, as if someone had…

Suddenly she felt sick. She felt oh so horribly sick she couldn't move.

"… Kate?" Castle asked gently, or as gently as he could with his hoarse voice.

The detective swallowed. "I… I don't know. I didn't… I mean, they knocked me out and I don't remember anything other than waking up here," she whispered, almost to herself, and her hands went to self-consciously close up her button-less shirt. Suddenly, as if remembering something important, a hand went to the side of her brassiere, checking for something. Clearly whatever it was was still there, for a bit of the tension had left her shoulders. Wordlessly, she stood up and stepped behind him, letting the shirt hang open once more as she made quick work of his ropes. They were tight, but simple to open.

Kate worked quickly and efficiently, ignoring Castle's concerned looks and stares and concentrated instead on getting him out of this chair. "Thank you," he muttered, flexing and reflexing his hands over and over again as the final rope was released and he sagged a little in his chair, feeling blood rush to much needed places. Nodding to him, Kate sat down beside the chair and simply stared out into the mist, unable to make much sense of her thoughts, only knowing that she really really wanted to get out of here.

It took Castle a few minutes before he managed to stand up. As soon as he did, he felt himself wobble again and instead decided to imitate Beckett. Ever so slowly, the author lowered himself down to the wet floor beside the detective, sighing as his cramped muscles stretched out. The burns ached, but that pain was so familiar by now, it was like a migraine. Horrid but tolerable.

The two didn't know how long they were in there since Beckett's watch was broken, but it was enough for Beckett to tell him everything that had happened after his kidnapping. Some parts of it he really didn't want to hear, but when she was done, he could only nod. She asked him if he wanted to share as well, to which he replied, "there are some things that you are better off not knowing, Kate. This is one of those things." Understand, she pursed her lips and nodded. Perhaps he was right - listening to the recordings had been bad enough.

A violent lurch and the sudden absence of the hum beneath them indicated that the boat they were on had just anchored. A door behind them opened and the two swiveled around to come face to face with a giant of a man who indicated that they should both get up. As quickly as they could, and Castle relying heavily on Beckett during the process, the two following the man as he made his way through the corridors of the boat and out into the predawn air… right back to the same area of warehouses.

Beckett and Castle frowned simultaneously, but a voice just ahead jolted the both of them from their thoughts. "Come on you two, no need to delay! I've got plans," Miller called, and the two made their way to yet another warehouse, looking remarkably similar to the one they'd just come from. Miller's small frame was clearly distinguishable in the brightening sky, and a shiver ran down their spines as the cold wind played on their wet skins. One of Beckett's bare feet snagged on a broken piece of glass and she bit her lip from crying out as a shard embedded itself between her toes. Trying to simultaneously hold up Castle's weight and not apply too much pressure on the shard proved difficult, and it was with relief that Miller commanded them both to sit on two chairs; identical to the one Castle had been strapped to, while his big, beefy comrade assisted him with something they couldn't see.

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"We've got Miller's prints and this other guy named Jackson, also an ex-con who is into bodyguarding at the moment. He probably did most of the heavy lifting, what with Miller and his problem," Ryan said as both him and Esposito pored over the evidence they had, trying to find the weak link in the story, something Miller hadn't thought of that would lead them to him. "It's very possible that Miller and Jackson worked together in the past, as Jackson's bank records showed no steady income while Miller was in prison," he added, though he didn't see how that was relevant.

Esposito shook his head. "Boat, dude. Where are we on the boat?" he asked, rubbing his eyes as he stared up at the murder board, having difficulty remembering the last time it had been this heavy with information yet so lacking in information at the same time. Five murders, two kidnappings, no leads… It seemed like this Miller could do no wrong.

Ryan sighed. "There are no boats registered to a Jared Miller nor a Gregory Jackson. The actual boat they were on must have shut down all communications because no one could find it on a radar," he said, repeating what they'd already gone over as soon as the canvas had been complete.

Turns out that the chip Beckett had broken was the only chip that contained any sort of information on where Miller was transmitting from – the monitor was designed to wipe itself whenever it was shut down, rendering it useless for the. Everything was a dead end. Everything they'd put in, every single tracker the police could follow was a dud. Miller had managed to make a BOAT disappear. This guy might have been in prison for years, and he might appear innocent, but he was a lot more than he seemed.

At that moment, the elevator at the precinct dinged open and both detectives' heads turned as a pair of heels sounded on the floor. For a long, horrifying second they was sure it was Gates coming into work early when Esposito's features relaxed and Ryan's following suit a second later. It was Lanie.

"Still nothing?" she asked, dressed in her regular clothes, clearly heading out. Both men shook their heads, and the ME put a hand on Esposito's shoulder, staring with them up at the murder board for a few seconds when she frowned.

"Hold up a second," she started, moving away from the detectives and towards the board. She appeared fixated on the words "Beckett's phone in her car". Frowning, Esposito followed her and looked down questioningly. Noticing this, Lanie bit her lip. "Beckett once told me that she always has a backup plan… That she was never untraceable, and that it all had something to do with her phone," the medical examiner said, her brow furrowed as she tried to remember.

In vain, she shook her head. "I can't seem to place the rest, but perhaps that can help?" she said, and blinked as she saw that the boys were no longer there but at the elevator. "Er, you're welcome?" she called out, a half grin, half scared to bits look on her face. As the metal doors slid shut, Esposito blew her an air-kiss, to which Ryan smacked his arm good-naturedly. It was amazing what the hope of a lead could do to two detectives.

In less than ten minutes, the two detectives were back at the warehouse and breaking into Beckett's car. They were sure she wouldn't mind, considering the gravity of the situation. Pulses racing wildly as the sky kept getting brighter and brighter, it was Ryan who found the phone first and snaked out of the car with a triumphant "aha!".

Peering down at it, Ryan turned on the GPS feature and they waited, breathless, until a small red dot appeared on the screen labeled "plan c". Grinning, Esposito let out an exhilarated yelp and Ryan thumped him on his back. "Gotcha, you son of a bitch!" Esposito grinned and they made their way back to the van, wasting no time. Whatever was going to go down tonight – or this morning, really – Esposito made a note to thank Lanie graciously after this was all over.

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><p><em><strong>Yo! Quick question before you all click that lovely little review link underneath this (hehe); do you think the 'T' rating is good for a story like this? : I've been debating for DAYS over whether I should change it. In the end, I thought I'd leave it up to you to decide. Let me know what you think! Until next chapter;**_

_**Dani**_


	6. Chapter 5

**It seems that the wait for the chapters keeps gradually getting longer. I'm sorry! Writing this chapter... was hard. Very hard. I didn't know what I wanted to put in, and what I wanted to leave out. I debated with myself over the bit at the end for an entire day. But here we are - chapter five. I honestly do hope you guys like it, and I hope you'll let me know what you think. Thank you so much for your reviews, they mean the world to me! **

**A note: I realise that on occasion I sometimes get the technical details wrong, usually with police procedures/gadgets or medical conditions. I'm truly sorry to those who see these blatant errors and it bothers them, but I can't be accurate on subjects I know nothing about. I learn a lot from Castle (and Grey's, come to think of it) and I Google a lot. Drop me reviews and correct me, so that I can learn for next time. Many thanks!**

****Disclaimer: No characters/places/scenes/incidents that are mentioned on the ABC show Castle are mine, and neither are any other pop culture references/other characters that were not a figment of my imagination. The plot and everything else is mine, and I hold it very close to me. This is relevant to ALL my chapters.****

**Here we go!**

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><p>CHAPTER FIVE<p>

"So how are we on comfort, detective?" Miller asked, grinning down at Beckett tied to the chair in a similar manner that Castle had previously been. "You were so delightfully cooperative before I'd hate to see you in pain now," he added, winking at her and nodding towards Castle, barely sparing him a glance. The pale, shivering man was a mess and Miller had decided that more ropes on him would just be a waste; the guy wasn't going anywhere and there was something very satisfying about the fact that had Castle been stronger, he could have run. It was only Miller's influence – a cripple – that had made him like this.

If looks could kill, Beckett's murderous gaze would have Miller dead a hundred times over. She kept her silence despite the fact that the ropes were horrifically tight, especially on her ankles and instead focused all her energy into breathing. Deep calming breaths were necessary both for her sanity and Castle's at the moment, as her partner was close to going into shock. Unhealthy beads of sweat were breaking out on his forehead and he was shivering openly, clearly in silent agony. The sight of him so helpless, so vulnerable on the floor set off shocks of pain in her own body. She only looked away from him when Miller spoke, and she never replied.

_Come on Ryan, Esposito… Where the hell are you guys?_

"Hmm. Shame. Oh well – guess you're going to be uncomfortable for a while, _Kate_," Miller shrugged, and stepped much closer to her as he half whispered her name, his face inches from hers and a leering smile appearing on his lips. Mute, fuming, the detective tried to stare Miller down. No one called her Kate without her permission… No one except Castle. She felt nausea creep up her throat again and she fought with herself not to betray her feelings. Whatever it was that Miller wanted, Beckett would not give him the satisfaction of getting to her.

With a flick of his eyes and a quick gesture of his hand, Miller's thug walked off and into the darkness of the warehouse, leaving the three of them alone. Seeing this, Castle tried in vain to get up, but it seemed the trauma was finally getting to him, for his vision swayed and the writer found he was having trouble keeping a level head. Suddenly panting, he groaned and crashed back down into the lying position he'd been in, feeling his blood begin to pool around him again. At the sound, both Beckett and Miller turned to him, Miller's grin widening. Beckett's heart constricted at the sight and she felt the blood drain away from her face and her eyes widen. It was clear from the strung out look Castle had that he wasn't going to last very long unless they got out of here quickly.

"What do you want Miller?" she spat, turning her head to face the guy as he sat down in a chair he'd placed right in front of her, their knees touching. It appeared this question delighted the ex-convict, for he smiled expectantly at her and lifted a hand, finally glove-free, to gently caress her cheek and tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear. She shuddered at the contact, disgust clear on her face. Not even for a second did she forget that her shirt was still open.

"Kate, my dear, I thought that was pretty obvious. What I want… is you," he said, and downcast his eyes almost sadly at the look she was giving him, though Miller apparently got over himself very quickly for he grinned up at her almost instantly. "You must be very impressed, no? I mean, everything has gone so smoothly up until now, has it not? I killed those people perfectly; I kidnapped that pesky thing," he nodded to Castle, "flawlessly. I had you running around in circles to find me until I decided I wanted to be found," he said, savage lust in his eyes now as he regarded her. The detective, abhorred, stunned, caught off guard by his words, tried to squirm out of his reach, but in vain. The ropes were too tight and there was nothing she could do. Beckett was forced to stay still as Miller inched forward, his breath hot on her face. Her eyes never left him as he leaned closer and closer, finally placing a kiss on her neck. His smell – blood, reeking sweat and cigarettes – assaulted her and she fought the urge to gag. Another nauseating shudder ran through her body and her eyes immediately went to Castle, her mouth hanging open. Her eyes met his startlingly blue ones and she almost felt guilty at the horrified look in them.

Castle, on his part, felt his stomach churn painfully at the sights he was seeing. In the end… this is what Miller wanted? Kate herself? It seemed more horrible than revenge. To see her, with her injured foot and the blood caked on her face which Miller seemed to not have a problem with, her shirt hanging open to reveal her barely covered chest and stomach… it was all wrong. Beckett looking helpless was wrong. It was abnormal. And he was too weak to do anything but watch in horror and let the inevitable unfold. Where were Esposito and Ryan? Hell, where was Gates? Where was the NYPD? Were they not coming? As much as he tried to maintain his gaze on Beckett though, it was becoming harder and harder for the writer to concentrate. Another violent swirl in his head sent his thoughts into disarray and his rising heartbeat made it difficult to focus on anything too specific anymore. He was slipping, and he knew it.

All the while, Miller was finding savage pleasure in the fact that the detective was shivering under his touch. He failed to acknowledge that she was shivering due to disgust, and read her reactions as if she enjoyed the proceedings. Not letting go, Miller left a trail of kisses from her neck to her jaw to her cheek – the one not covered in blood – and to her ear, where he grinned. Kate visibly flinched and tried harder to lean further away from him, to no avail. It was only as his hand began to trail down her chest, to touch her where he had no business touching, that her panting peaked.

"Get off me, Miller," she growled, the words coming not from her mind, but from wherever it was that pure hatred, pure loathing, came from. Her suddenness caused Miller to snarl in anger and he violently pushed himself off her. Before she knew what was happening, before she could register his expression properly, a large hand came into contact with the cheek he had just kissed and Miller slapped her hard – sending her entire chair toppling over and her head flying so hard to the left she felt her neck crack. She hit the floor with an almighty crash, her head banging exactly on the spot she'd been hit before, causing fresh blood to begin seeping out.

Her cheek burning, her eyes watering and her whole body quivering, Beckett dared not say a word. She couldn't even see Miller anymore, as he had limped off somewhere. The detective swallowed the pain, swallowed the anger and forced herself to breathe. It would be naïve to assume that he would not be coming back, and she needed to prepare herself for whatever would happen.

"K-Kate…" a voice so soft, so deathly silent was heard, Kate found it difficult to place it as Rick's. "Do what he says. I can't watch this… Please, do whatever he says," he whispered, his words barely carrying across to her. But hear them she did. Unable to move, all she could do was release a shaky breath before Miller was back and pulling her chair upright again, sending her head swimming.

"Detective, do not test me," she heard Miller's voice somewhere in front of her and even as her vision had yet to clear, she distinctly heard the safety hatch being removed from a gun. Pursing her lips together and fighting against the blurry vision, everything came back into focus and for a second Beckett dearly wished it hadn't. Miller was back in his seat, one hand leaning on his knee while the other holding a gun pointing straight at Castle, his mouth open in a snarl.

"One wrong move, one wrong word, and the writer's dead," he said to her, then growled savagely, as if daring her to test him. "I have a new list of demands I want from you, Katherine Beckett," he stated, and leaned the gun closer to Castle, the proximity of it making Kate feel faint. "First – please tell this man that you do not care if he dies," Miller stated, not even looking at her as he stared down at Castle with contempt.

Kate frowned slightly, confused. For all his clearly unhinged ways, Miller had seemed so calculated before… did he not realize that he was no longer being calculating? She would not be doing his bidding if she didn't care about Castle. Keeping her opinions to herself though, the detective's eyes left Miller's and latched onto Castle's foggy ones. The loss of clarity startled her and she realized that his time was running out. "Castle, I don't care if you die," she managed to get out in a strangled voice; though after four years of communicating silently with their eyes, Rick understood that Kate meant exactly the opposite. Her eyes, so full of concern for him even when covered in blood and undergoing hell, told a different story and that was the one he wanted to listen to. That was the one he believed.

Miller grunted, in his current state of heightened emotions failing to catch on to this blatant display of silent communication. "Next, dear Kate… Tell me that you love me. Look at me while you do it," he said, his eyes alit with excitement now while the hand holding the gun trembled. Kate's head slowly turned back to him, her eyes wrenching from Castle's and latching onto Miller's, hate etched everywhere on her face.

"I love you," she said slowly, the revulsion again pushing to surface, but she kept it down. Those three little words… She never, ever said them. Barely to her father on special occasions but other than that, not ever. They sounded so foreign on her lips, so unreal, that saying them to someone like Miller… Well, it just didn't feel right. Especially with Rick just lying there, in a pool of his own blood, watching her as life slowly ebbed away from his eyes.

Miller saw nothing of it. Instead, at Kate's words, his mind catapulted back to years ago, before he'd gone to prison and to the days before _she_ had died.

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"Jared! Come on, come out of that blasted study already will you?" she called out from their kitchen, the smell of homemade burgers wafting into the room; both her melodic voice and that enticing scent made it very hard for him to concentrate. Sighing, he rolled his eyes and did just as his fiancée asked; appearing by her side almost instantly, kissing her neck affectionately as his arms wrapped around her and the small, protruding belly.

Soon to be Mrs. Miller laughed, the wonderful sound echoing around the bright house. His friends had often said that she was too good for him – he, a criminal with a shady background and she, a pure hearted stunning volunteer, with large innocent green eyes and the appearance of an angel. When they'd first met, she had hated him. She'd abhorred his ways, detested that he was so illegally rich, and tried her hardest to stay away from him as much as she could. Sooner than later though, due to Jared taking a liking to the blonde beauty, she realized that beneath all of the charade, the unpleasantness and the dishonest ways, he was a good guy just leading a misguided life and that pulled her in so fast she almost didn't see it coming. After all, who couldn't resist a bad boy who was actually good on the inside?

They dated, and the girl he'd lusted after once before became Jared's everything. All the cons he pulled, all the money he made… It was all for her. They'd made a deal – he would stop once they got married. After that, he'd get a normal job and they'd live on his earnings; they sure were enough. Days after he proposed, Jared found out she was expecting a child and a month later, it was revealed that they would be getting a girl. For the first time in his life, Jared had an inkling of what it must be like to have a family. A whole, functioning, happy family. Overjoyed by the news, they had just begun to decorate the baby's room and think up names when disaster struck.

A con had gone terribly wrong. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time… And she'd died. Just like that. Years later he would try to remember the last conversation he'd had with her, the last time he'd kissed her, seen her face smiling at him but would always come up empty. Jared, with his connections and protections and money, just hadn't been expecting anything to happen to her. Seeing her on the ground like that, blood splattered everywhere… That was a sight he would never ever forget. The first time he'd ever seen Detective Beckett and Richard Castle was the day Jared lost his entire world. Distraught, he did the only thing he could do back then – he went along with everything, coming across as shy, helpful and cooperative – everything that she had revealed in him. It was soon clear that he hadn't committed the murder, though of course he would still be going to prison for all the scamming he did. Jared had not expected anything different. What he hadn't been expecting was the detective who locked him up, put him behind bars and at first wrongfully accuse him of murdering his own fiancée. Appearing first as just another faded silhouette in the unreal life after his love's death, the more the investigation continued, the more she became clear. First her eyes, then her name. Katherine Beckett.

Like his very own Katerina Barnes. Both of them Kate. In that interrogation room the final time he'd seen the detective, Jared had looked into her eyes one last time. They were the exact, identical shade.

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"Yes Kate, you do, you love me," he repeated, as if in a trance, and then smiled as he looked into Beckett's eyes, blind to the evident loathing that was staring back at him for it was not Beckett that he was seeing at that moment, but his very own Kate, with that loving look that she had whenever she looked at him. To Beckett, it seemed like he almost forgot for a second that he was looking at the detective, but crashed into reality as an involuntary groan from Castle reminded him of exactly where he was and why exactly he was here. Instantly, his face hardened.

"Last thing Kate dearest," he said, and brought his chair as close to hers as he could, spreading his knees so that Beckett's were between his legs. Gently letting go of the gun, he smirked at her. One hand went to the slightly reddened cheek where he had slapped her, while the other to her waist, causing Beckett to stiffen and bite her lip, fighting off the nausea yet again. "Kiss me, Kate. Kiss me like you've never kissed before," he stated, and slowly inched towards her.

Repulsed, scared, alarmed, stunned; Kate could only watch as he neared her face, his hand going around the back of her neck. Once again his smells attacked her nose and she tried not to breathe. Inching as far away from him as she could, her neck strained to its very limit, the detective almost retched the contents of her stomach as his lips – chapped, thin and dirty – made contact with hers. Almost at the same time, she felt his hand travel upwards, up her stomach, up to her chest.

She couldn't do this. She wouldn't do this. Where were they? Where the HELL were Ryan and Esposito? Where was her team? She couldn't do this. The repulsion was too great. She couldn't do it. It was too wrong. So Beckett protested. She made a noise, she pressed her lips together, she refused to kiss him back, refused to cooperate. Miller pulled away, his eyes boring into hers as she held her breath, revulsion etched in every line on her face before he let out a breath.

"I told you, detective… One wrong move-" he taunted, and then to Beckett it seemed like the world had suddenly slipped into slow motion, taking on a highly saturated, almost unreal quality First, she saw agony – pure, undiluted agony, on Miller's face as he regarded her – before he looked down at his run. Picking it up, Beckett's breath caught in her throat as she opened her mouth, about to scream, yell, shout, anything, to tell him to put it down, to not shoot.

But it seemed as if her mind and her voice were too slow. Too quickly yet painstakingly slowly, Miller raised his gun to point at Castle's almost unmoving form. Time shuddering almost to a stop, she saw every inch of his hand tense up as his finger, with excruciating stillness, hooked and pressed the trigger, drawing back towards Miller as the gun shot out its bullet. Unable to comprehend exactly what had just happened, she stared at the gun until the corner of her vision was suddenly filled with red blood. Lethargically, her head turned and her eyes latched on to Castle's stomach, where the bullet hole was clearly evident, spewing blood out. More blood. Blood. Her mind zeroed onto it as it slowly shook itself from the numbness. His blood. Castle's. Rick's. There was too much of it.

"NO! NO! YOU BASTARD, NO!" Kate finally yelled, time seeming to agree with her and slipping now into normal pace as she finally found her voice, her mind kicking into overdrive. "YOU KILLED HIM, YOU PIECE OF SHIT, NO. CASTLE, CASTLE! RICK, STAY WITH ME… PLEASE, STAY WITH ME RICK," she yelled out to him, her voice hoarse, desperate, as she watched his surprised face shut down, the light behind his eyes begin to leave, as if he hadn't expected to have actually been shot. In a frenzy, Beckett tugged helpless at her restraints, forgetting about Miller, about the warehouse, about the murders, having only eyes for the man who was dying right before her eyes. Dying, and there was nothing she could do about it. Rick… No. NO.

"RICK, PLEASE. NO. GOD, RICK, PLEASE. FIGHT IT RICK PLEASE, FOR ME PLEASE RICK FIGHT IT, RICK YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME NO PLEASE RI-" her sobs of agony were suddenly cut short as a slap silenced her, Miller fuming above her head. Gasping as the raw pain emanated from her cheek, she had to close her eyes for a second. When she opened them back up, Castle had already closed his.

"RICK!"

Eyes wide, breath coming in short gasps, Beckett had no idea what happened next. She was blank. All she could see was him, and his pool of blood, and his closed eyes and his lifeless face. She had no idea that Miller was trying to get her to respond, no idea that he was slapping her over and over again, no clue that the wound in her head kept bleeding out, nor had she any inclination at how long it was before bright light suddenly shone from the opposite side of the warehouse and detectives Ryan and Esposito stepped inside, holding guns and demanding that Miller step away from her. She also didn't notice that Miller fired another single shot and the blood sprayed her face.

Kate remembered nothing. Kate saw nothing. It was as if she was floating in midair above the scene, present but not really there. Everything was blurred, nothing made sense. Rick was… dead. Rick was dead. Rick was gone. He'd been shot. He had spent the last hours of his life been tortured and then shot right before her own eyes. He was gone, not coming back. She would not see him anymore. Rick… Richard Castle… The man she could not live without. The man that had confessed his love to her, but she had been too much of a coward to allow herself to go down that road. Too selfish to grant him happiness. Too self-absorbed to realize that his feelings mattered more. Too scared. Too fragile. Oh, God.

And now he was dead. He'd been shot. Brutally shot. And it had been her fault. Her own fault because she couldn't stomach a kiss… What a stupid reason. Her weakness had caused the death of Richard Castle. The words hung there in midair, and they made no sense. They made no sense because he couldn't be dead. She could see him in her mind clearly. Laughing with her, annoying her, solving cases with her, going out with her, hugging her, being there for her, being her partner, helping her… And what had she done for him? Nothing. Simply nothing. The only thing Rick Castle had ever wanted was her, and she hadn't given in even though she knew that's what she wanted too. She had failed him, and he was gone. Joined the list of people who were gone in her life. Up there with her mother now.

Would she be gone too then? Selfishly, her thoughts were still on herself. Now that Rick was gone, would that mean that she would die too? She couldn't see herself living, going about doing mundane things anymore. She couldn't wrap her head around it, couldn't imagine being a cop, going into work every day and continuing her life without him. Pretending as if he'd never been. Going back to solving cases alone. Closing in on herself again. It was just unthinkable. And, oh god, what would happen to Martha and Alexis? They just lost a son and a father. Kate knew all too well what Alexis would go through, and it tore at her heart. To lose a parent at her age though… It was worse than what had happened to her. Much worse.

He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be dead because then that would mean she'd lost a partner, Alexis a father, Martha a son, and everyone else a dear dear friend. The whole world, a brilliant author. No, it wasn't possible that he was dead. She could almost hear him now, calling out her name, telling her that it was just a joke, all of this hadn't happened, that he hadn't died just now, that he hadn't just been shot. It wasn't possible that he'd just been shot. His eyes… His wonderful, brilliant electric blue eyes, gone forever. It wasn't possibly. She couldn't be alive if he wasn't too. So she would die now? What would her own father think? When she died, would someone call her name out too? Say Kate over and over again? Kate, Kate, Kate… "KATE! KATE!"

And with a crash almost too painful to bear, reality tore through her waking nightmares. The pain, the smell, the taste, the warehouse, the dirt… It all came abck. The bleakness of the situation, the heaviness of it, startled Kate and she blinked. Yes, it was all there - all there apart from…

"HEY! Where's Rick? Who moved him? What's happening?" Kate croaked, and suddenly realized that she was no longer bound to the chair. The detective tried to get up, but the dizziness that took hold of her so abruptly when she did almost toppled over again. Two strong arms were there to catch her and for one wild moment, she thought it was him. Turning her head, the sight of Esposito's worried stare had never disappointed her so much before.

"Where is he? What happened?" she asked again, her voice barely above a whisper, and although he opened his mouth to begin explaining, she found that she could not hear what he was saying. Blackness began to form around the edges of her vision and the last thing she was aware of before she passed out was the loud siren of an ambulance.

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"We've been spending way too much time in here lately," Lanie whispered softly as their small group of five sat in the hospital waiting room, all looking worse for wear as the sun shone on a new day. The clock read some ungodly early hour, yet none of them had slept a wink. Ryan and Esposito sat at the edge of the group, with Lanie leaning into Esposito's chest, her eyes sliding shut every so often as she held onto his hand, waiting and waiting for news. Beside Lanie sat Alexis, and the girl had never looked paler. Massive dark circles encompassed her eyes and her knees kept twitching anxiously, her electric blue eyes – so like her father's – staring at some random spot on the floor, her hands tucked between her legs. On her other side sat Martha, her own hands wrapped around her granddaughter as she fought to keep her own face straight, to not melt down. As the oldest person in this party, she felt that she owed an obligation to keep herself above the surface.

Esposito and Ryan had called an ambulance to the scene as soon as they figured out where it was, and as a result Castle had been whisked off to the hospital even as Beckett was still in shock. Since she was less urgent, the ambulance had left without her, the two detectives driving her unconscious body to the hospital on their own. They got there not too far behind the ambulance, and quickly learned that Castle had been rushed to surgery for his extensive wounds, not to mention the bullet hole that had punctured him.

Beckett was a different matter. The people in the ER had patched her up as effectively as possible though she showed no signs of waking up. The trauma done to her had been great, so they gave her a room where she was quickly given a hospital robe and laid down on a bed, where the detectives left her to sit just outside her room. When it became clear she wasn't going to wake for a while, they joined Martha and Alexis in the waiting room, leaving Beckett in the hands of the nurses who promised to keep watch over her and let them know as soon as she woke up. The hospital had called the Castles as soon as Rick had been admitted. Lanie had been there the entire time.

That was three hours ago. Beckett had yet to wake up, and Castle's surgery was long and complicated. All they could do was wait. Wait for the news, wait to see if Rick would make it, wait for Beckett to wake up, and wait to see what this new day would bring. It couldn't possibly be any worse than the night. Or so they hoped.

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><p><em><strong>Well, as you might have realised, this fic is soon coming to an end. Or at least, this part of it is. I think I have one more chapter to write that concerns Miller, and then I'll mainly focus on Castle and Beckett, and how they recover from this. I can't quite decide if I want to continue the story in this fic, or if I should start another one. I appreciate your input on this, as I'm really finding it difficult to choose. Any thoughtscomments/questions/anything you might want to shoot my way, let me know in the reviews. I write mainly for you.**_

_**Until next time (which hopefully will be soon, either tomorrow or the day after),**_

_**Dani**_


	7. Chapter 6

**I cannot even begin to describe how hard writing this chapter was. Not that it's an excuse for the lateness of this post... But I felt like I should tell you all that. This was actually done on Monday (CASTLE NIGHT! What did you all think of "Demons"? I thought it was EPIC) but I didn't want to release this then because it was a downer compared to the episode, PLUS I hadn't proofread it yet. Trust me when I say that my chapters, before proofreading, are not something you ever want to see.**

**Disclaimer: No characters/places/scenes/incidents that are mentioned on the ABC show Castle are mine, and neither are any other pop culture references/other characters that were not a figment of my imagination. The plot and everything else is mine, and I hold it very close to me. This is relevant to ALL my chapters.**

**Hope you like it!**

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><p>CHAPTER SIX<p>

Kate's consciousness returned to her bit by bit. First the smell of disinfection underlined with blood that haunts all hospitals. Then the bright white glare of the lamps mixed with early morning sunlight that shone behind her closed eyelids. The scratchy texture of the blanket, the synthetic material of her gown, the hardness of the bed, the steady beeping of a monitor. Her eyes fluttered open and her fingers twitched, slowly easing back to the real world. Then she frowned. What had happened? What day was it? Why was she here? Was it something with her shooting? But no, she'd left the hospital months ago for that, hadn't she? Why was she back? Where was Cas-

"Castle! Where's Castle?" she stiffened and bolted upright, her whole body rejecting the sudden violent movement and her vision went dark, her head suddenly feeling nauseatingly light. She had a terrible feeling about her writer though and needed answers so she fought against the weightlessness. Looking around, she saw that the beds in the room she was in were occupied and held sleeping patients. What time was it? How did she even get to the hospital? Why was her memory so sluggish?

"Detective Beckett!" a young nurse exclaimed as she noticed her up, and promptly disappeared from her view, leaving Kate confused and a little put out. Why was she leaving and where the hell was she going? Her patient was right here! Looking down, she closed her eyes and tried to block out the world, attempting to remember what it was that had happened. They had been investigating those heart murders. Castle… Rick had been kidnapped. There had been another murder. Jared Miller. The phone. Kate shuddered and the room suddenly grew cold, the light dimmer. The message. The warehouse, the boat. Being knocked out. A hand went gingerly to her head, where her still tender wound was, and she winced. Then what? The bathroom; and in it was Rick. Rick's condition. Oh God. She swallowed down nausea. Then what had happened? Her vest… Her vest had disappeared, leaving her exposed since he had made her destroy her shirt. Then getting off the boat, back into another warehouse where she had been tied up. A wound in her foot pulsed, and she remembered the shard of glass. What had happened after that?

Slowly, as if in trance, it all came back. Well, almost all of it. Her face fell, her eyes darkened and she shivered violently, wrapping weak arms around herself as the memories flooded her brain. The conversation with Miller, his gun and Rick… Oh God Rick. His blood. Miller had shot him. Suddenly finding that she couldn't breathe, Kate's hands clutched her knees tightly, involuntary gasps escaping her as she fought to regain control over herself. Overcoming the momentary panic attack due to the calm, collected nature of the hospital – and the obvious lack of blood pooling around a lifeless body belonging to Rick Castle – Kate took a second to just breath.

At that moment Ryan, Esposito and a doctor appeared simultaneously appeared, rushing to her side. "Beckett!" Ryan and Esposito chorused together as they saw the state she was in, the memory of her own shooting all too fresh in their minds. Her face was practically one huge bruise of varying shades, including her cheeks, around her eyes, her jaw and her forehead. Her head was bandaged up, the dark blood stain striking against the whiteness of her dressing. It was not a pleasant sight to see and both detectives just managed to hold their winces. The nurse had done just like they had asked and they had come running, dragging the doctor along with them.

Kate raised her head, allowing her hands to drop to her sides, and latched her gaze onto her friends. "Where is he?" she whispered, not able to manage more. Her large green eyes flicked between one haunted face to another and almost broke down again when Ryan spoke up.

"He's not dead…" he answered, attempting to keep his voice devoid of the hopelessness he was feeling, his disheveled appearance attesting to the fact that Castle might not be dead, but he was as close as one could get. _Like she had been before,_ he and Esposito thought painfully. "Kate, he's in surgery. He's been in surgery for hours and we still don't know anything," he added and looked to Esposito for help, but his partner had nothing more to add. There were things that they needed to do, thing they needed to ask, but right now they knew Kate would not cooperate, and they could understand. It could wait.

Relief washed over her and she allowed herself to lie back down in bed, mute sobs wracking through her body as she hid her face behind her hands. He wasn't dead. Rick wasn't dead. He might die, but right now his heart was still beating. "He's not dead," she whispered to herself and would have crumbled into a ball had a soft, unfamiliar cough not interrupted the moment.

"Detective Beckett… I realize you're worried about Mr. Castle but right now I need you to focus on yourself. I have to make sure there's been no damage done to your brain, or any other part of you…" he began, and at her blank expression, decided to just dive right into it. "Detectives, if you please," he signaled the door and both of them understood. Throwing Beckett last looks of worry, they both left the ward and the doctor pulled the curtains closed around her bed.

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"How is she?" Martha asked as Ryan and Esposito came back to the waiting room, judging from their expressions that Kate wouldn't be waltzing in fully cured anytime soon. The older woman was alone in the room and the solitude had made Martha more anxious. Alexis and Lanie had been close to breaking, so she'd sent them both on a coffee errand, insisting that they take a breather from the waiting. She had tried to get them to go home and sleep – even tried to get Alexis to go to school - and had failed miserably, so the coffee was a compromise.

"It depends what you mean by that. Physically, she's going to be fine. Her face is bruised up pretty badly and the doc's checking for anything else that might be wrong with her but she looks like she's going to be ok," Ryan began, taking a seat beside the older woman as he rubbed his eyes tiredly, a sigh much too old for his young lips escaping his mouth. Going to be ok, physically. But all of them knew that inside, Kate was dying.

"Emotionally though… I don't know what happened on that boat, or what was going on before we stormed in but it sure left its mark on her," Esposito added, sitting on Ryan's other side. They had told all three girls everything they knew, though they downplayed the phone recording a lot for Alexis and Martha – they didn't need to know that part, and if Castle wanted to tell them when he got better, then that was his call. Because he was going to make it. He was going to survive. They refused to believe otherwise.

"And Miller… He's definitely dead, right? You saw it?" Martha asked, her voice breaking. They'd already had this conversation before and it hadn't been pretty.

They both nodded. "Shot himself in the head, blew half his face off. Pronounced dead on the spot," Esposito said, and they lapsed back into the inevitable silence. It was a few minutes later that Lanie and Alexis returned with coffees for all of them, the two girls looking like death walking. The lack of sleep was getting to everyone, and the hot caffeine was a necessity for them all. The two detectives filled them on Beckett's situation, and only Martha noticed that while Alexis looked relieved to hear Kate would be all right, there was a tightness about her face that hadn't been there before. She sighed, and held her granddaughter close to her, the sick feeling that her son was an inch from death not abating even a little.

Sometime in the next few hours, Kate's doctor informed the group that she was going to make a full recovery with no visible scarring. He had found nothing wrong during his exams, and her scans showed no brain damage, which was lucky for her. Nodding, Lanie, Esposito and Ryan asked if they could see her, to which the doctor replied that after redressing her wounds, Kate had fallen into an exhausted, reluctant sleep that she absolutely needed. When she woke up, a nurse would inform them.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

When Castle's surgeon finally came out to talk to them, he met with only Alexis, Martha and Lanie. Esposito and Ryan had been called back to the precinct by a furious Captain Gates to explain exactly what happened during the night and why the hell didn't they think it was appropriate to inform her while it was going on. If the situation had not been as severe as it was, the expressions on their faces would have been comical. They had been gone only twenty minutes when Dr. Cress came out.

"Anyone here for Richard Castle?"

It was Alexis who stood up first. She was in front of the doctor before Martha and Lanie even had time to lift their heads. "Yes, I'm his daughter – that's my grandma over there, his mother and that's our friend Lanie," she said, pointing hurriedly at each woman in turn before looking back at the man, worry and anxiety written across her face, needing him to say that her father wasn't dead, her eyes going over his tired expression and fearing for the worst. _Please… Please let dad be alive. He can't be dead. He won't die. He never said goodbye. He cannot be dead… Please, dad, please don't be dead._

"Right," he nodded at the three women in front of him before sighing. "Ok, so your son – father – is out of surgery and in the ICU right now, where he's resting. He has yet to regain consciousness. My name is Dr. Cress and I'm the attending surgeon on his case," he said, and paused briefly. A cry of relief escaped three pairs of parted lips as a heaviness was removed from their hearts. Both Alexis and Martha were holding each other, relief etched on their faces as Lanie furiously typed on her cellphone, clearly letting others know of the writer's situation. All three seemed to be only seconds from crying.

"During surgery we had some complications but we managed to pull through. The bullet is out and we expect him to make a full recovery. He's going to need to stay here for the unforeseeable future so that we can monitor him. He suffered major head trauma and has severe burns over his body, which we treated as best as we could. He's going to need a full work up when he's awake as well as well as some rehabilitation. Ah, now, I understand that this is _the _Richard Castle right? The writer?" he asked hesitantly, not wanting to be indelicate at this point in time.

Instantly, all three women locked their eyes onto him, a slightly suspicious expression on their faces. "Yes, he is the one and only. Why is that relevant, Dr. Cress?" Martha asked, keeping her voice as free of judgment as she could. What did it matter who Richard was? He was not well, and it was Dr. Cress' job to fix him, nothing more. But it seemed that he had a valid reason.

"I'm not… I mean," he stammered, not really knowing what to say. Once topics strayed from medicine he became much less articulate, "I've been told to relay this to you – there is a hoard of journalists out in front of the the hospital's main entrance. Obviously, our security is managing to keep them off the premises for now, but the numbers just keeps on growing and growing," Dr. Cress said, clearly agitated. WHY a nurse couldn't have told them was beyond him.

Lanie had dived right back to her phone as soon as he mentioned the press, while Martha and Alexis let out identical groans. "But… how did they find out?" the younger redhead asked, perplexed. It didn't make sense. It hadn't even been twelve hours since he was kidnapped and the media was already all over it. Who told them? She currently wasn't the biggest fan of the NYPD, but she doubted anyone there would have leaked her father's kidnapping to the press.

Martha sighed. "These things… they have a way of getting out, especially if people try to keep it hushed up," she stated, looking between Dr. Cress, her granddaughter and Lanie, eyebrows raised slightly at the exasperated expression on Lanie's face.

Lanie caught her look. "Javier downplayed this when he told me that they were out there… I thought it was only a few of them, so I didn't bother telling you. But now I googled and I don't know how, but they found out about Beckett too. They know that Rick was kidnapped, they know Kate followed, and according to them, both are still in mortal danger, fighting to an inch of their lives," she said, and rolled her eyes. "You know, if you're going to go stick your nose into someone else's business, just get your facts straight all the way," the ME added with an annoyed look.

Alexis then jumped in, sparing Lanie only an impatient nod. "Look, that's all nice and everything – but I want to see my dad now. I don't really care about paparazzi at the moment. Can I go see him? Please?" she insisted, locking her clear blue eyes onto Dr. Cress' aged ones. The surgeon couldn't quite decide if Alexis Castle was more annoyed, anxious or aggressively determined at the whole situation. He decided to call it as a mixture of all three, and therefore did not agrue.

"Yes, of course," he nodded to both the young woman and her grandmother before turned to Lanie with an apologetic expression on his face. Before he could even begin to speak, she raised a hand to stop him.

"Don't even say it – I have to go anyway. Duty calls," she stated, and turned to Martha, having not missed Alexis' expression before. Little Castle was not pleased, and the ME wasn't about to argue with her. "Keep us updated?" she asked, and as the older woman nodded, turned on her heels and left, walking down the corridor away from the exit and towards Kate's room. The plan was to see that the detective was still alive, still sane if she was awake, leave her some things before trying to unobtrusively leave the hospital. The last thing she wanted now was to be interrogated by the press. Luckily for her, she really didn't look like a cop, or anyone who could be associated with the NYPD.

Twin horrified gasps escaped Alexis and Martha's lips as they walked into Rick's room, Alexis being the first to run to her father's lifeless side. Well, NOT lifeless. That was the point. But the way he looked, with the countless white bandages and hospital gown, his grey pallor and the fact that his face was devoid of its usual hidden mischief… It was hard to recognize him.

"Oh, Dad!"

"Oh, Richard!"

Martha joined her granddaughter by her son's side, Alexis holding herself back from flinging herself on top of him, instead choosing to clutch his hand very, very tightly. Martha did the same thing on his other side, and gently reached out to run a caressing hand over his face. The lack of motion in him apart from the rise and fall of his chest was unnerving. Rick… He always moved. He was always doing something. To see him so still wasn't just unnatural; it was wrong. A small part of her almost expecting him to suddenly tear out the wires, bounce off the bed, point a finger at her and say "gotcha!", with those blue eyes she loved so much sparkling with unsuppressed glee. But it wasn't happening, because he had been shot. Shot and… Well, the detectives hadn't needed to say anything for Martha to understand that there had been a bit more than just shooting going on in that warehouse. Just the thought, and all the obvious bandages, made her feel more than a little lightheaded.

Dr. Cress cleared his throat. "Erm, we don't expect him to wake up in the next few hours. Perhaps you want to go home and catch some sleep? We promise to alert you if there's a change in his condition," he said, and almost ran out of the room as two very strong, very fierce gazes shut him down. Alexis's expression immediately softened as she looked back to her dad, and Martha's heart broke all over again as tears began to silently fall down her granddaughter's cheeks, exhaustion and anxiety getting to her.

"Grandma…" she began, and turned her eyes onto Martha's, a grim determination in them that the older redhead had never seen before. "He's not going back. I won't allow it. If it hadn't been for the NYPD, he never would have been in this mess. If it hadn't been for… for Kate, then nothing would have happened to him. He's been so close to death before, and this time it was too close. I won't lose him to her. He might think she's important enough, but she's not. She can't be. Dad's going to wake up, and then I swear I'll break his knees if I have to keep him at home," she said, the tears sliding faster, burning down her cheeks. Lanie had been right – they'd been at the hospital too many times lately, and Alexis refused to be in here again because of her father. It wouldn't happen. She would see to it.

Martha simply sighed, choosing not to point out one very obvious thing – that her son had not been as happy as he is when around Beckett in a very, very long time. On one hand, she completely agreed with her granddaughter, but having seen Richard with women over the years it was clear that Kate Beckett was not one he would simply forget. She had a nagging feeling that even if he wanted to, he couldn't.

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That night, at around 11 PM, Kate's eyes fluttered open. It took her much less time to take in where exactly she was, and sighed, sitting up. The movement didn't ache as much as she expected. Encouraged by this, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and attempted to stand, her whole body wobbling violently at her first try. The determined detective took a deep breath and tried again, the nurse on call only noticing her once she was up and walking, barefoot.

"Detective Beckett, I'm afraid you're going to have t-" the nurse began and was stunned into silence by the look the woman was giving him. Beckett still had bruises all over her face and her head was still bandaged but the look those two vibrantly green eyes were giving the nurse was one that stated clearly that this was a woman who could stare down serial killers and win.

"I need shoes. Preferably my own. And I need you to tell me where Richard Castle's room is. Please. Now."

A few stutters, stammers and weak protests later, Kate had everything she wanted. Well, not everything, but would do with this for now. Hobbling silently towards the ICU, she stopped when she finally came across the room she'd been looking for. The nurse hadn't put up too much of a struggle, and apparently she was a Castle fan, with her favourite character being Nikki Heat. That had been a big help.

Seeing no telltale signs of any redheads around, Kate quickly slipped into his room and shut the door quietly behind her, hurrying towards his bedside. The detective had woken up with only one thought on her mind; a need to see him, to see that he was really alive. The last time she'd seen him, he had been almost dead. The images struck her again and she shook her head, trying to push them out as she took a seat next to his bed, taking his hand after a quick moment of hesitation. Apart from the steady beeping of the monitor, the room was deathly silent, and his lifeless demeanor did nothing for the rising panic within her.

"Rick…" she whispered, her voice having none of the authority it had contained five minutes ago with the nurse. Swallowing, she allowed a hand to gently go to his face, then to the spot where she knew he'd been shot, and wasn't surprised to feel a thick gauze bandage around the area. It was unreal. This whole day, from last night to now… Was it even possible that Rick and her had been tossing around theories about the case only twenty something hours ago, that it hadn't even been a full day since everything happened? That in that short a time, her partner and beloved writer had been kidnapped, tortured, abused, tormented and shot, then undergone extensive surgery to repair all of that? It was impossible.

The worst part of it all was that it was her fault. Miller had wanted her at the end of the day, and Rick had just been bait. He'd gone through all of that just so that Miller could have her, and a little fun on the side. Seeing him like this with that knowledge… it killed her. She shouldn't be here. She had no right to be. If she was his family, she would hate her right now. She DID hate her right now. Because what did she have? Black eyes, some bruising and a concussion? How did that even begin to compare to what he'd gone through, when Miller had only wanted her?

One phrase that he had uttered kept repeating itself in her head, like a broken tape recorder. She'd be lying to herself if she hadn't been denying it had happened since it did. He had said it just before she'd lost consciousness the day of Montgomery's funeral, the day she'd been shot. When she, Kate Beckett, had almost died he, Richard Castle, had expressed his feelings for her, giving her something to live for. His face had been the last thing she'd seen before she woke up to the blank white harshness of this very hospital. Then she had selfishly lied to him because she was too scared, too broken, to come clean.

When he, Richard Castle, had almost died, what had she, Kate Beckett, said to him? That's right – absolutely nothing. Squeezing her eyes shut, she gripped his hand harder, wishing he would wake up so that she would have to explain exactly why she was here. She wanted him to wake up, wanted to gaze into his beautiful blue eyes, wanted him to give her no room to escape. Kate always found ways to weasel out of situations, and just for once, she wanted him to catch her in a situation where there was no other explanation other than the truth. How she wished he would just wake up, gaze at her with those brilliant blue eyes and demand from her the knowledge she'd been keeping to herself, underneath barriers, for so long. The wall… that stupid wall. Her mother's murder had left her a shadow of the person she had been. When Kate tried to remember what she had been like before it, she felt like she was reflecting on someone else's life.

Solving her mother's case would bring her closure. It would finally end the horrible suffering she went through, day after day, as she solved other people's cases. It was a satisfaction to know that she prevented others from going through what she had on a regular basis, but Kate would be lying if she didn't acknowledge that she terribly wished her mother's case was on the same level as the others she had to deal with, then she could put it to rest and move on with her life.

With each problem they solved – for it was no longer only her, it was her and her partner, her writer – it seemed like it only opened up another myriad of other, more complex problems. The blow she had received from the knowledge that Roy had been connected, however inadvertently, to the case was one she couldn't let go of. Then her memories of the night he had died resurfaced and she felt guilty for even doubting her deceased Captain's honesty. He had made mistakes, and had spent his entire career making up for them.

That night… In the hanger. Looking down at Rick's blank face, she tried to remember how angry she'd been at him for taking her away from the scene. In hindsight, both Roy and Rick had been right – had she stayed there, she would have gotten killed. She shut her eyes, remembering the hysteria as she fought against Castle's arms as had he grabbed her and taken her away from the hanger, let her down beside her car and pressed her into it, effectively cutting off any means for her to escape. He had even muffled her sobs, her cries, so that the men inside wouldn't overhear.

It was hard to remember what she felt at that moment. Definitely anger, betrayal, but when she had surrendered to the inevitable, she'd felt gratitude towards the wonderful writer who had risked his life so many times in order to come and help her, whether with or without her consent. And during the funeral, when the bullet had hit her he had tried to tackle her out of the way. He had been only a second too late. What if he hadn't been? What would have happened then?

A sudden cough from across the hall jolted Kate from her thoughts and she blinked, suddenly realizing that her hands were holding his in a death grip, her eyes full of unshed tears that threatened to drop at any second. Furiously, she blinked them away. She had no reason to cry – Miller might have pulled the trigger, but had she been more careful, had they realized that those hearts meant he had an affection for her sooner, then none of this would have happened. Rick's voice echoed in her mind, telling her that playing "what if" wasn't going to help, and her chest constricted.

Glancing at the clock, she was surprised to see that she'd already been here for half an hour. Sighing, she lowered her head to lay it against his hip, a part of him she hoped was as uninjured as could be, and closed her eyes. She'd stay in here for a bit, and go back to her bed later. Looking back, she had no idea how long it had taken her to fall asleep, but the next thing she knew it was half past six in the morning and the hospital was beginning to wake up.

Rubbing her eyes and gingerly lifting her face off him, a quick glance at his face told her that nothing had changed overnight. Reluctantly, Kate released his hand and sighed, standing up. Before she turned around, she gently placed both her palms on either side of his cheek, leaning her face to his. "You need to wake up, Castle, you hear me? Your daughter needs you, your mother needs you, your fans need you and I… I need you. Please, Rick, make the last effort. Please." Letting out a breath, she bit her lip and straightened her back, gazing down at his unresponsive form one last time before slowly let herself out of the room. She was heading towards her own bed when a pair of familiar voices echoed down the corridor in front of her. Panicking, not ready to face the two women just yet, she hopped into a storage room off on her right, leaving the door a little open for air and backing into the shadows as much as she could.

"Oh, Alexis, you know you don't think that's true," Martha said, exasperated by her granddaughter's determination. She thought it would have at least abated by now, but Alexis only showed more conviction after she had woken up this morning. Her hair was still wet, and pulled up in a messy bun as the eighteen year old had insisted that they go visit Richard as quickly as possible. School seemed to have become completely irrelevant, and Martha couldn't muster the energy to argue for it.

"No, Grandma. It IS her fault. I like Kate, trust me I do, and I'm really glad that she helped dad out and that he makes her happy, but she's still just his pretend partner. She hasn't done anything else to change that and unlike dad, I can spot a lost cause when I see one. She's never going to budge, and he's going to get himself killed for her. I won't let him. I told you last night Grandma, and I'm still saying it – he's not going back. It's either the NYPD or me. He's going to have to choose and he's going to pick me," the redhead stated stubbornly, her voice filled with venom, pausing her stride just to tell her grandmother that right in front of the very storage space in which Kate was hiding.

The detective's heart leapt to her throat and she suddenly found it very hard to breathe. Her mind began going off a mile a minute before that wall that protected her from harm, the numbness that prevented her from getting emotionally hurt crashed down, locking out those feelings that she knew were going to torment her. Holding her breath, the detective with the blank stare waited until Martha had given up the argument and as soon as the two redheads had passed her, Kate hurried back to her bed as fast as she could. Apparently, on her way out, Lanie had left her jacket for her, and so the detective managed to get fully dressed despite the lack of buttons in her shirt.

Getting discharged was easy. Getting the cab home was easy, despite the evident bruising. Having a shower, rubbing off the grime and changing the dressing on her already rapidly healing wound was also easy, as was applying the thick layers of concealer make up. It was once she found that she had nothing to do that it became hard. Should she go to the precinct? It suddenly hit her that she knew nothing of the investigation, nothing of what had happened to Miller, of whether he and his pal had been arrested. And they probably also needed statements from her and Castle.

It didn't take her long to decide that the precinct it was. That was the best place for her to be right now, even if it meant facing the fury of Gates and the interrogation which would follow. Anything was better than Alexis Castle's voice in her head and the quietness of her apartment.

In under two hours, Kate was already out of Gates' office feeling like a schoolgirl caught cheating on an exam, and walking towards Esposito and Ryan who had waited patiently until she was done. Their faces were grim.

"Where is Miller? Is he here? What about the other guy?" she asked as soon as they were opposite each other, Gates having so nicely avoided her questions while pressing her own, and the expressions on the detectives' faces confused her. Why did they look… sad? Guilty? Weren't they supposed to look pleased? Had they not CAUGHT him? He had been right there! About to open her mouth and utter a string of curses followed by a demand for them to explain how the hell they hadn't caught Miller, Esposito's raised hand stopped her.

"He's dead, Kate. Shot himself as soon as we came in. We have Jackson, but he doesn't seem to be too fussed about going back to prison. He-" Esposito swallowed his next words as this time her hand silenced him. Her parted lips, her wide eyes… The face she had on clearly stated that she wanted to know no more, that she was already furious enough as it is. Coward. After all his bravado, he had chosen to take his own life and not go back to prison. Now he'd never suffer for what he did, never have to deal with the consequences. She would never know truly why he had what he did. With a pang, all three suddenly felt the gap where Castle would have been, trying to lighten the mood with a sentence that would turn the situation upside down.

"Come on – you guys need a statement of what happened. Get your notepads," Beckett said, feeling the wall around her expand, thicken and harden. As the words tumbled out of her mouth, her mind was elsewhere, and both Ryan and Esposito saw it. Lanie saw it took, when she heard that Beckett was in the precinct and had come up to see her, what with the lack of dead bodies today. Beckett's head was on one person and one person only, one person who she knew was no longer coming back, one person who was the only one with enough power to bulldoze through her walls, one who would never have the opportunity to. It was almost as if there was a tiny lock on the wall, and he had the key that could bring it tumbling all down. But he never would. Because he wouldn't come back. She was with Alexis on this one, as much as it hurt – Richard Castle was done in the NYPD.

Done with her.

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><p><strong><em>And there it is, the ending of the first part of "Deadly Love". Please, PLEASE tell me what you guys think in the reviews, I'm ever so anxious to know your reactions. After much deliberation I decided that I'm going to continue this fic. While I love wrapping things up, I also think that ending on this sour note just doesn't do the story justice. I mean, I'm always going on about Caskett and their amazing ability to preserve and withstand anything, so what kind of hypocrite would I be if I let this be the end of them in my own little universe?<em>**

**_The next chapter... I don't know when I'll post it. Less than a week, I promise, but I'm not saying anything more on that as I always seem to jinx it. Love you all, thank you SO much for the story/author alerts and favourites, and I truly truly hope you'll stick around with me to read on. Much love!_**

**_Dani _**


	8. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! So glad you're still with me. And so, I'd like to present to you, the beginning chapter of the second half of "Deadly Love". As per your request, I am continuing. This chapter... was a pain in the butt. I couldn't decide between FIVE different outcomes, all concerning Alexis and Kate. Those two are a lot more similar than what I first realised. Anyways; hope you guys like it, please let me know what you think and I'll start working on the next chapter tomorrow! (Since, well, it's 5AM right now and I am dying.)**

****Disclaimer: No characters/places/scenes/incidents that are mentioned on the ABC show Castle are mine, and neither are any other pop culture references/other characters that were not a figment of my imagination. The plot and everything else is mine, and I hold it very close to me. This is relevant to ALL my chapters.****

**Enjoy!**

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><p>CHAPTER SEVEN<p>

"… I'd say the time of death is a few hours ago, sometime between three and five am this morning, judging by- Kate?" Lanie looked up from the freshly dead body by her feet as she noticed that her friend was not listening to a word she was saying. "Earth to detective Beckett?" she tried again, and yet Kate was still mesmerized by something off to her left, down the street. Standing up to her full height, Lanie regarded the detective before taking in a deeper breath. "KATE!" Lanie insisted this time, and both Kate and half the uniforms around them jumped about a mile in the air, a few even pulling out their guns. A roll of her eyes caused the guns to be put back in their places.

"Jesus, Lanie, what is it?" Beckett asked, hand over her heart as she finally took notice of the ME before her, looking as if she'd been wrenched out of very deep thoughts.

"You're not listening to a word I'm saying. What the hell is there down the street that is more interesting than my…" Lanie began, but as her eyes flickered to where Beckett's had been only seconds before, her words died in her throat. No wonder Kate had looked so odd when first coming here. "Oh," was all she managed, and turned to Kate, apprehensive.

Beckett shook her head. "Don't worry about it. I just… I haven't been here in a while, that's all," she said, stealing one more glance before looking back down at the body. It was amazing how disinterested she was in it compared to yet another apartment building in New York. Only, it really wasn't just another apartment building this time.

"Yeah… Been around two and a half months now right? Still nothing?" Lanie replied, and with her eyes told the approaching Esposito and Ryan to back off. Kate was finally talking to them, for whatever reason, and she did not want any interruptions that would cause her to roll back into herself. Both men looked confused but held back, talking amongst themselves and shooting the two women curious looks.

Beckett, having noticed none of the exchange, shook her head and made an impatient noise, avoiding looking both at Lanie and down the street. "I'm not expecting there to be _something_. There's a reason I haven't called him as well," she stated, and only because Lanie knew her so well could she tell that under the cool façade she was showing off, her friend was hurt more than she'd ever seen her. Another glance down the street told her she knew exactly what it was that would make the hurt go away, yet Kate was too stubborn to see that it would be the right thing to do. In fact, Lanie was almost one hundred percent sure that Kate thought it would the worst thing she could do – her friend, as stubborn and silly as she was, probably thought that it was all her fault, and therefore leaving him to be was the correct solution.

Not that Lanie, or any other of the people at the 12th had seen him since those awful few days. When he'd woken up, Gates had been the one who had gotten Castle to give in the statement. The file had been wrapped up somberly, with Jackson being placed in prison and Miller's body cleared away. The next time a body dropped after Kate's few days off ended, she did not call Castle. None of them had been surprised – after all, he was still at the hospital and wasn't going to come out anytime soon.

It took almost month for Castle to be released – that information was in the papers, which was how they all knew – and another few weeks until he was seen out and about un the city. He never gave interviews, he never spoke to people outside his immediate family and his agent had told the New York Ledger that he wasn't even picking up her calls. While no one talked about this at the precinct, everyone combed the papers, looking for any mention of him. By some unspoken agreement, no one mentioned Castle to Beckett and she never brought him up herself.

There had been a day, only three weeks after the case had closed, when Alexis Castle had shown up at the 12th looking for Kate. They had gone into the break room, pulled down the blinds and talked for what seemed to have been around fifteen minutes, when the door had opened to reveal a poker faced Alexis and a blank Kate, clearly hiding whatever she was feeling deep under layers. "Goodbye, detective," Alexis had said, and turned to look at her one last time before making her way to the elevator. No one had seen the eighteen year old burst into tears as soon as the doors shut.

"Goodbye Alexis," Kate had whispered in reply, and clutched the piece of paper the girl had left her all the more tightly, watching as the red haired Castle made her way to the elevator and the doors shut. Not giving anyone any explanations, she had gone out for lunch and when she came back, her eyes were a little red and the paper was no longer in her hand, though her voice steady and her mind completely on their current case.

The Castles – any Castles – had never been mentioned again. A newcomer to the precinct would not have noticed anything amiss but the atmosphere there had changed forever. Beckett, who had opened up during the years Castle had been with them, shut back down and closed in on herself, not saying anything more than what she had to about the cases she was solving. At first Ryan and Esposito had still tried to get her to go out with them after solving murders, but she was so unresponsive, so clearly suffering, that they gave up. Lanie was still persisting, though it was hard. Getting detective Kate Beckett to genuinely smile was like getting Captain Gates to strap on a bikini and dance the hula.

They say that one doesn't appreciate what one has until it's gone, and that statement couldn't be more accurate for the 12th precinct. Before Castle, they had been getting by just fine, even better than fine. Then their writer had come along and made work fun, made it happy, made it excellent. But once he was gone again, they realized how much he had really been integral to their system. They still solved cases, they still caught killers and put them away, but it took them just a little bit longer, and without that extravagant flare that Castle had been known for. Coming to work had become exactly that – just coming to work. Nothing else.

And they all hated it.

"Ok. Go canvas the buildings, see if anyone saw something. I'll head back to the station, start in the board and we'll see where this goes. Lanie, you'll have something for me soon?" Kate asked, turning to the ME who was back on the ground, examining the body.

With a nod from the raven haired woman, Kate turned back to her car which she had parked across from where everyone else had parked theirs. As she crossed the yellow tape, she felt the familiar pang as she remembered her mother's crime scene all those years ago. A few steps later, she felt the second pang, now becoming familiar too, of how he had used to pull her from her dark thoughts with some ridiculous yet highly entertaining theory, or a lame joke. Now there was no one to pull her from the dark places and she was starting to make a home there.

Had she not glanced down towards his apartment building one last time, had she not allowed herself that final act of indulgence, who knows what might have happened. But just as she looked up, she saw the doorman hold the entrance door open for three residents. Three extremely familiar residents. Kate's heart suddenly jumped to her throat and she found she could not move, her hand clutching the open car door tightly and apparently glued to it. The bright sun bounced off the red hair of both the younger woman and the older one, though was absorbed by the dark brown of the man in the middle. All three of them were carrying luggage and they walked towards the black service car waiting for them, packing all the suitcases in the boot and seemingly too enwrapped by their conversation to notice the crime scene not too far away from where they were standing. One was about to turn her head but a joke from the tall man caused them all to laugh, and she turned back.

Alexis got into the taxi first, her bouncy nature clearly indicating that she was very excited about something. Martha and Rick talked for a little bit and after something her son said made Martha laugh, she patted his shoulder and slid into the cab as well. Backing up a little, Rick bent down to wave at his girls and Kate could only assume that they waved back at him, since the sunlight was reflecting off the windows and she couldn't see. Castle stuffed his hands into his pockets and watched the black car as it drove down the street, not moving until it was out of sight.

Holding her breath, Kate's eyes never moved from Rick. The last time she'd seen him, he had been gray and lifeless, lying in a hospital bed with tubes sticking out of him, connected to machines that kept him alive. And the second last time she'd seen him, he had been shot. The memories were so familiar to her by now that she almost welcomed then as they came to her; Miller with the gun, her shirt open and the tiny sting of the glass in her foot, Castle just lying there, unable to get up and then the gunshot… The blood pooling out of him, his eyes losing their vitality, her hysteria at thinking he was dead.

It had haunted her nightmares for a month. The first week, she hadn't been able to sleep. The second week, she'd become addicted to sleeping pills. It was only after a month that she had finally fallen into a natural sleep. Seeing him now, here, alive, well and cracking jokes… Well, it both warmed her heart and turned it cold at the same time. He was all right, he was ok – but he was no longer in her life. She had tried to make her peace with that, but it was taking time. Some days, it hurt too much. Others, she managed to go almost the entire day without thinking of him, only to have some random item or memory trigger her memories of him.

Rick stayed out there for a long time, basking in the sun. He stared at the spot where the car had stood, and due to the distance between them Kate couldn't read his expression. If she had, she'd have been able to see how his eyes kept flicking inconspicuously towards the crime scene; how he had been the first to see it, and tried everything he had to prevent Alexis and his mother from seeing it too. She would see how he had been forcing himself not too look at her, because he knew she was standing there and was watching him.

But it had been a long, long time since he'd laid his eyes on his muse. With a shaky breath, Rick suddenly allowed his eyes to travel upwards, over the crime scene and directly at Kate. Even from a distance, he could see the familiar green shade and his stomach tightened, the action causing his scar to twinge. But he didn't take his eyes off her. He couldn't.

The breath that Kate had been holding was knocked out of her body as Rick's eyes met hers. The familiar mesmerizing blue seemed to swallow her whole and the hand not holding the door of the car clenched tightly, as she fought against herself not to do something stupid. She forced herself to remember that it was her fault. Her fault he'd been in hospital for weeks. Her fault he'd been kidnapped in the first place. If something happened to him again, it would be her fault. She couldn't go to him. She just couldn't. She wouldn't.

But even as she felt her hand slipping from the door, as she realized her resolve was crumbling down before her eyes, her phone buzzed and startled her out of her reverie. Jumping, she reached down to take it out of her pocket, and realized it was a text message from Ryan, asking her where she was. Out of the corner of her eye, she hadn't missed the fact that as she had jumped, so had Rick.

She sighed. She had a job to do – she couldn't just stay here. And she couldn't talk to him. Something might happen again if he came back, and she couldn't take that risk. It was better that he was out of her life and living than in it, then dead. Not looking back at the writer, she got into her car and drove off, in the opposite direction the Alexis and Martha had gone. The detective put all her thoughts into her driving, and the spare ones into her current case, not allowing her sudden whirlwind of emotions to get out of control. There was no use.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

_As their eyes met, Sam knew that he couldn't live like this anymore. His heart ached to be near her, his whole body tingled as the memories flooded his mind, enveloping him, suffocating him. A sudden gust of early morning wind blew her long, luscious curls away from her face and accented the unearthly beauty that was his former partner, Carla. She hadn't changed a bit. The scars on his body had faded with time, mostly due to the excellent work of the world's top plastic surgeons, but nothing could cover up the wounds he felt inside, nor the eternal craving he now held for cherries._

"ARGH!"

Flinging the laptop from his lap, Rick groaned and hid his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes and felt the familiar annoyance settle in. Ever since he'd seen her this morning, nothing had been the same. For the past two and a half months, his every third thought had been about her. He's hungry, Alexis is home, Kate. Alexis skyping Ashley, his mother coming in at ten AM, Kate. His new obsession with cherries, his writer's block, Kate. Over and over and over. Kate. What was she doing? Was she ok? Did she miss him? How was the precinct?

He had been told he woke up in the hospital after two entire days of being out. The first person he'd seen was Alexis, and then his mother. He hadn't understood exactly what had happened until the memories came flooding back and his wounds ached. The only distinct thing he remembered from those early hours was that he could understand why Kate had not called him for as long as she did. Or, well, perhaps he couldn't understand completely, but he understood the notion. He remembered thinking that she was the last person he wanted to see at that moment, while simultaneously being the only one he could bear to be with. She'd been there, she'd seen it. And then he'd been shot. The memories of the agony he'd suffered through had taken weeks to diminish, but the gun pointed at him combined with the sound of the bullet had never left him to this day. Rick vaguely remembered writing Kate a letter, which Alexis took to her at the precinct, telling her not to visit, that he would be ok, that he would call her and come to the precinct when he got better.

He felt the familiar guilty twinge as he thought of the unintentional lie that letter had been. He hadn't called, he hadn't gone to the precinct and he was one hundred percent healed. Not that he hadn't wanted to, but Alexis had insisted. She had set him an ultimatum; either Kate or her, only two weeks after the incident and while he was still at the hospital. After a halfhearted fight in which he tried to emphasize the point that he not should be given ultimatums by his daughter, he'd given in. Of course, he'd chosen Alexis. At the time, the unfairness of her actions hadn't really sunk in, but two months later and he'd began to secretly resent his daughter for the promise.

His mother saw it too, but she refrained from saying anything. Sometimes he wanted her to push him to talk to Alexis, but he knew that she would never, and that he would have to do it himself. But now that his daughter was off in college, it would become much harder. His mother had insisted she wanted to accompany Alexis on the final journey there, and instructed him to sit at home and try to write something. To "be productive, for a change" had been her precise words.

Of course, that wasn't happening. He hadn't written anything other than ramblings for two months, and it was driving him crazy. Nikki Heat seemed to have died in his head. Nothing he wrote made any sense anymore, and only his mother intervening at the last moment had saved the entire first half of the newest Heat novel he'd been working on. As a last resort, Rick had even tried to start a new one, but nothing came up. He'd been writing little short, rambling stories that basically mirrored his life and saving them in a file called "The Ramblings of Richard the Roadkill". They were terrible, fully of crappy lame jokes and graphic descriptions of pain, torture and angst.

But seeing her today… He couldn't get her out of his mind. After spending four years with the NYPD, he had become accustomed to the blue and white flashes of police cars, therefore spotting them from the window as soon as they began to seal off the crime scene. A part of him had wanted to ditch everything, get dressed and go down there, present her with coffee and just pretend like nothing ever happened. Only it did, and he couldn't do that. Forget the fact that it would freak everybody out.

Keeping his mother and Alexis away from the windows was easy enough, what with the excitement over it being moving day and all, but he'd had to get creative when he'd looked too distracted after they'd gone down to the car. He was sure Alexis had been fooled, but his mother… Well, nothing truly got past her. It was both a blessing and a curse. After they'd left, he'd debated with himself whether to look at her or not, whether to let her know that he knew she was there, all the while worrying that she'd just get into her car and leave.

Eventually, his heart won out. The first thing he noticed was the greenness of her eyes. Even back then when he'd seen her every day, he hadn't been able to get enough of them. Going all this time without seeing them had just made the sight all the more intoxicating.

In those moments when he had nothing to do and no distractions around him, Rick had tried to figure out what she was thinking, what was going through her mind and what her thoughts were on what had happened to them. After knowing her for four years, he knew that she definitely felt guilty, which was silly in his opinion. Yes, Miller had only been after her at the end of the day, but she shouldn't feel guilty for what had happened to Rick while with him. She hadn't been the one pressing the dry ice to him, not had she held the burner to his leg, nor the knife, nor the gun. None of it was her – it was all him. Sometimes he wished he could just go over to her apartment and tell her that playing the "what if" game was just going to kill her, that there was no point to it. But he couldn't. Because he had promised Alexis that he wouldn't.

The silence around him suddenly shattered as his phone rang. For one wild, hopeful moment he thought it would be Kate, but as always, it wasn't. This time, it was Alexis. "Getting cold feet?" he asked, picking it up.

His daughter laughed. "No, dad. I'm going, and there's really nothing you can do to stop me, ok? I'm actually calling about something else…"

Rick pouted, forgetting for a second that she could not see him. He was about to say something when she beat him to it.

"Dad, quit pouting."

He laughed. "Alright, alright. What is it, pumpkin?" he asked, already missing her even though it had been less than half an hour since she'd gone. Whatever Alexis did, she only did it because she thought it would be best for him, and he couldn't doubt her. She was his daughter, and he loved her more than life itself. While he saw the problematic situation of being controlled by his daughter, he had understood the logic behind her words, even if he hadn't liked it.

She cleared her throat. "Um… Well, dad, can you come downstairs?" she asked, sounding decidedly uncomfortable, with a hint of something he could not place.

Rick sat up. "Downstairs? Why? What happened? Is everything ok? Is Grandma with you?" he asked, already slipping back into the shoes he had kicked off before, his head pressed to his raised shoulder to keep the phone from falling. At Alexis' hurried calming remarks telling him everything was fine, he grabbed his keys and rushed downstairs, finding himself in front of the car in under a minute.

"What is it?" he asked as soon as they were face to face, noticing a difference in Alexis that he hadn't seen before. Martha, who was right behind her with a small smile on her face, recognized the look – Alexis had worn it the night she had decided she was not letting her dad go to the NYPD anymore. Eyeing his mother's coy smile critically, he at least managed to persuade himself that whatever Alexis would tell him, it must not be terrible news or his mother wouldn't be grinning like that. Not that it made him any less worried. His mother's judgment was shaky at best.

"Dad…" she began, and took a deep breath. "Are you happy?"

The question threw him off and he blinked, unsure of how to reply. "Is this a trick question to get you to stay?" he asked, half joking, half dead serious.

Both Alexis and Martha rolled their eyes, Alexis placing her hands on her hips as she stared her father down. "Dad!"

"Okay, okay. Serious conversation. Um," he started, at a loss for what to say. What DO you say to your leaving soon to be nineteen year old daughter when she asks you if you're happy? The truth or a blatant lie? WAS he happy? Well, that was simple. No, and Rick was sure that was what Alexis was getting at. If she hadn't been around, he'd have spent the past two months moping around the house in his underwear. He wasn't writing, he wasn't seeing Kate, he had gone through rehab and though he was physically healed, he had never felt sicker. No, he was not happy, but he couldn't tell Alexis that.

"Of course I am. I have you, even if you are leaving me to go and be clever," he said, his mouth forming a wobbly smile as he tried to keep up the pretense. It wasn't fooling anyone.

"Liar. And that's what I… it's what I wanted to talk about," Alexis said, and at her father's raised eyebrows, pressed onwards. "Remember when you were- well, of course you remember that, never mind. I mean, remember what I asked you? To… to leave the precinct and not go back?" she asked, looking up at him.

Mutely, Rick just nodded. He sent a brief questioning look to his own mother, who just shrugged and remained annoyingly cryptic.

"Well… I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that if you didn't go back, you would be safe and we could go back to what we were before you ever started at the NYPD. Not that I haven't loved these past four years either, it's just that I thought, since we had a good time before, there was no reason we couldn't have a good time after. But… But I was wrong dad. I'm sorry. When you were shot, I just saw my entire life crumble away. I couldn't picture me without you dad, and I don't want to ever have to again," she took a pause and suddenly Rick understood what it was she was stirring towards.

He let her continue uninterrupted.

"But that's selfish. It's selfish for me to want to keep you here and never let you out again just so that I can know that you're not going to get hurt. It was also unfair of me to force you to pick between me and K- between the precinct. So here's what I'm saying; I hereby remove myself from that equation. Actually, I now really want you to go and get the captain to take you back. Please dad. I can't go off knowing that you're going to be miserable here… Plus, I can't tell you what to do. I just can't. It's not right, and I'm really sorry for before," she said, not able to meet his gaze anymore, and instead focused her gaze on his shoes. Her face matching the colour of her hair, Alexis felt ashamed. Guilty. And she was eternally grateful to her grandmother for making her see sense before she made the worst mistake of her life, and forced her dad – her beloved dad – to grow to resent her. That was the absolute last thing she wanted.

Rick, on his part, could only gape at his daughter before pulling her into a bone crushing hug. "Alexis… It's not that simple. It's not only the precinct that's the problem. And it's not all your fault. But now that I know I have your blessing, I shall definitely try to make the extra effort," he said, gratitude seeping into his voice. Her felt her smile into his chest as she hugged him just as tightly, and he grinned and beckoned over his mother.

"Can I just add a few last things Richard, before you are rid of us?" Martha said as she wrapped her arms around her small, beloved family.

Rick chuckled. "What if I say no?"

Martha sighed. "Then you're not ready for what I have to say. But I think you ARE ready, so listen to me carefully. The reason you're not writing is easy – you've lost your inspiration and you need to get it back. I have a solution – go hunt down your muse. And this time don't mess it up," she said with a wink, smiling again, and Rick felt Alexis nod against his chest.

He sighed. Kate. She's what this all came down to, at the end of the day. But going back to the precinct and fighting with her was one thing; going to her FOR her was another, completely different scenario. One that could go horribly wrong and then not even a thousand pep talks and persuasions from Alexis and his mother could fix it. It would be too late, and she'd never talk to him again.

All too soon, Alexis was back in the taxi, the driver starting to get seriously annoyed. "Tell Kate I'm sorry dad… And tell her you love her so that things can go back to normal, you can publish more books and I can finally have my dad back!" she said, as car roared to life and drove off, disappearing once more and leaving him alone on the front entrance. The smile he had plastered on his face at her words faded.

Looking to where Kate had been before, he sighed, shook his head and made his way back up to the apartment, his head reeling. Was it absolutely ridiculous that his daughter was giving him permission to do something? Yes. Was it justified, given the circumstances? He certainly wanted to think so. Kicking off his shoes for the second time, he resumed his position on the couch, staring at the words he'd written before, trying to work out exactly what it was he was feeling. Happy? Excited? No. Definitely not. It was almost like dread. The months without Beckett, without the NYPD… They had been terrible. But they also helped him get better, helped him ease back into life and provided a sort of hiding place for him. Once again, he found himself sympathizing with Kate after her own shooting. He'd just want to get away from it all, to not think about it, to not see anyone who was there. At first, he hadn't even wanted to see her and it had had nothing to do with Alexis. It was only as the first few weeks passed by that he realized the deep ache in his stomach was how much he missed her, and not his scars from the injury.

Did she miss him? It was just so hard to tell with her. Rick was sure that as a friend and semi partner, he was missed at the precinct, despite the fact that they frequently complained about his presence. But it surprised him how little that mattered now compared to the other big question; did Kate miss him? Him, for him. Because he had missed her. Seeing her today solidified that more than anything else could. For no other woman would he have gone through hell and back, and come out the other side still wanting more. There had been a few days scattered around the past two months when he'd woken up without the memory of what had happened. He would get out of bed, not run into Alexis or his mother, and go to make himself some coffee, checking his phone to see if Beckett had called with a new case.

But then something would clue him in. Perhaps he'd go over his last calls and not see her name; maybe Alexis would make an appearance in the kitchen and he'd remember his promise to her… Or sometimes he just went into his study to sit down in front of his laptop, fully intent on writing, when he would realize he had nothing to write about. Before Kate, he hadn't needed a muse in his life – he hadn't needed any one person to inspire him. But after Kate, it was like he couldn't write without her. The very thought that he had managed before baffled him.

These months, more than anything, had given him time to think, to heal, and to go over the past four years. A few moments stood out more, and those moments haunted him to this day. The time he'd watched her apartment blow up, with her inside; the time they'd kissed undercover, the time they'd almost died in that freezer, the time she'd been shot and he'd said those three little words that had changed his take on their relationship forever. Regardless of whether or not she'd heard him – which she hadn't as far as he knew – he hadn't been able to look at her the same way since.

Frustrated, Rick rubbed his eyes. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Just go to her? It wasn't only Alexis who had wanted him to stay away, he was sure of it. And what if she was seeing someone? After all, Kate was gorgeous; it wouldn't be too far fetching to assume that some guy had tried his luck with her. Question was, had she responded? The lack of information he had concerning her current life suddenly loomed on him, and he groaned. There had been nothing too shocking in the papers, meaning that her mother's case was still unsolved. His own murder board on Johanna Beckett's murder hadn't been accessed in a while, since it just brought up painful memories.

Yet even as the dread continued to spread inside him, a new emotion began to bloom. Thinking of Kate wasn't new, but the knowledge that seeing her would not violate a promise with Alexis gave an uplifting air to those thoughts that hadn't been there previously. Almost before he knew it, Rick was off the couch and in the kitchen, pouring himself some lemonade while "Heat Wave" lay on the counter. The best way to re-familiarise himself with Kate Beckett's ways was to delve back into his dear creation based off of her; Nikki Heat.

The sun was setting by the time he'd formulated a plan. It wasn't thought out, he was half sure it would fail, but he couldn't talk himself out of it. He had to see her. And it had to be tonight. Sighing, he closed the book and made for his bedroom.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Curling up with a good book was Kate Beckett's favourite way to unwind after a long, trying day at the precinct. She would come in, take a shower, pour herself some wine and pick up a book. She'd sit on the couch in her pyjamas, wrap a light, soft blanket around herself and open to the page she'd last been on and just read, simply allow herself to get lost in a world of fictional characters. Occasionally she'd happen to pick up a Richard Castle novel, and then her day would turn literally downside up. She'd always been a fan but after getting to know the man behind the novels and the cheesy author picture, Kate realised that she could find Rick between the pages, his style and the familiar way he thought screaming out at her from every word. It didn't even necessarily have to be the Nikki Heat novels for the smile to appear on her face. His books were like his theories; only between the pages, his theories turned out to be correct.

It had been two and a half months since she'd ready any Castle books. There they were, lying on her shelf and proudly displayed for the public, yet she hadn't been able to read them without knowing that she'd be able to see him the next day. She'd tried once, experimented, with the hope that perhaps if she read his books she would stop missing him so much. It hadn't worked. In fact, it had been a spectacular disaster, literally ending with her a shaking, weeping mess on the floor. That had been three weeks ago.

Stepping out of the shower that evening, she took the next few minutes to dry herself off and grab the extra-large shirt and leggings that she slept with. Kate pulled her hair up into a messy, dripping bun, placing a smaller towel around her shoulders so that she wouldn't get cold from the drops. Padding quietly to the kitchen, she decided to forgo the wine tonight and instead poured herself a glass of water, settling down on the couch with an old Patterson she'd started a few days ago. The detective was only a few pages in when the knock came.

Kate blinked, and glanced at her watch. It was eight in the evening and there was no one she was expecting. Lanie had taken to dropping by unannounced, but she knew for a fact that tonight she was with Esposito, so that ruled her out. With a sigh, she marked the page she was in and put the book down on the coffee table, wrenching her mind from the world of Alex Cross and into the real one. Turning the key, Kate opened the door and instantly felt her eyes widen.

One thing was for sure, she had _definitely _not been expecting the person who greeted her on the other side. "Castle?" she asked after an awkward silence, staring at him with her mouth gaping open. The shock wasn't allowing the flood of emotions she knew she would feel the second it would dissipate.

"Hi Kate," Rick replied, the bouquet of brightly coloured daisies held out for her to take, though judging from her expression, the writer could see she was currently too stunned to respond. He found he could relate – if she had suddenly dropped by his house unannounced, she might have needed to resort to slapping to get him to respond.

As it were, Kate recovered soon enough. "What are you doing here?" she asked, making no move to either take the flowers or invite him in. She noticed that he was dressed casually – a jeans and a simple buttoned T shirt – and with a pang realized how thin and frail he seemed compared to before. For some unknown reason, she suddenly felt angry because of this. Or was it just because he was here?

Rick blinked. What was he doing here? There was an interesting question that he didn't know the answer to. "I-Truthfully? I don't know. But seeing you this morning… It really got me thinki- Can I come in?" he suddenly injected, feeling decidedly uncomfortable standing out in the hallway with flowers while talking to her through the doorway.

Her eyes narrowed, and Rick suddenly felt a lump in his throat that hadn't been there before. "No. No, you can't," she said, and had to look down since she couldn't take the sudden hurt in his eyes. All she wanted to do was to invite him in but she knew what would happen. They'd talk, he would be his lovely self, and she'd let him come back into her life. Just the thought warmed her heart, but the giddy feeling vanished as the dark memories of the kidnapping resurfaced and she steeled herself.

Hearing his intake of breath, Kate held her hand up for silence. "You want to know why? Because you were tortured. Because you were shot. Because I promised myself I would not put you in harm's way again. I am a cop, it's my job. You are a writer, it's not yours. You suffered because of me, and I can't have that on my conscience Rick. That's why you need to go. Go, forget about us, forget about me, and carry on with your life. Please," she said, her voice hard. With a grim determination, she raised her head to meet his gaze with hers.

Rick would be lying if he said he hadn't been expecting this. Therefore, as much as her kicking him out hurt, he refused to leave. "Kate. I haven't seen you for two and a half months," was all he said, his tone hard to place, and just looked at her. Inside, his head was screaming. Screaming at her for being so unfair, screaming for her to let him in. This is what their relationship was about, at the end of the day. Her standing with the door open, refusing to let him in. He was always so close, could see the end, yet he never managed to cross over that threshold.

Well, tonight would be different. Because tonight, he had all the time in the world.

A shiver ran down her spine as he said her name. No one ever said Kate the way Rick says it. Like he's caressing the very syllable. How could she not let him in? How could she lock him out forever? He'd suffered so much for her, he'd been through hell and back, he'd dove in front of bullets, he'd nearly died so many times… And all he wanted now was to gain entrance to her apartment. Who was she to deny him that? Who was she to deny herself that?

She sighed; a long, conflicted sound. Green eyes leaving blue ones, they fixated instead on the gorgeous bouquet of bright daisies. Biting her lip, she gave up the fight and held out her hand for them, opening the door wider and allowing him in. It was a mark to how much things were different that he did not smirk as he crossed over into the apartment.

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><p><em><strong>And there it is! What did you guys think? Yeah, I know, it was a bit of an angsty chapter but I needed to write it out so that y'all know where each of our favourite duo is. The outcome of this evening conversation is still undecided, by the way, so if you've got a preferred result or any suggestions at all, please let me know in the reviews! Until next time,<strong>_

_**Dani**_

_**P.S. Seriously. Tell me. Because I've got very little idea as to where I want to take this.**_


	9. Chapter 8

**YES. I know. It took a while. But these sorts of chapters are harder for me than the first part was. Hope you're all still with me, and I suggest y'all make it to the end. I put something in there I've been longing to happen for ages.**

******Disclaimer: No characters/places/scenes/incidents that are mentioned on the ABC show Castle are mine, and neither are any other pop culture references/other characters that were not a figment of my imagination. The plot and everything else is mine, and I hold it very close to me. This is relevant to ALL my chapters. Let's face it, I'm no Andrew Marlowe. Unfortunately.******

******Have fun!******

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><p>CHAPTER EIGHT<p>

"So."

"So."

Kate sighed and ran her hand through her hair, already regretting her decision to let him in. After putting the daisies in a vase that had previously held something long dead, she had asked him if he'd wanted anything to drink, to which he replied that a glass of water will do. Pouring him one, she made her way over to the area between the door and the couch and handed over the glass, pleased to see her hands were steady. Inside, she was anything but. Mutely, she guided them both to the couch and sat down, careful to maintain a respectable distance from him.

"How are you?" she asked softly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a memory surfaced of a time, long ago, when she had asked him that very same question, in a remarkably similar tone – yet a very different setting. Or perhaps it wasn't that different. At any rate, Kate buried the thought.

Taking the glass from her, Rick took a big gulp of water before sitting down, finding the whole situation rather surreal. He had been dreaming about seeing her for so long that now that it was actually happening, he was stunned into silence. Just walking into her building had been a trip down memory lane, and when she'd first opened the door… Well, he'd be lying if he said seeing her hadn't caused his scar to twinge painfully, but it was a small price to pay for seeing those mesmerizing green eyes again. How he'd missed them.

Her question brought him back to reality. For a brief moment his mind flashed to that same situation she had just thought of, but like Kate, he put it in the back of his mind. That was a long time ago. "I've had better times," he replied with a strange, detached, staring down at his hands. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to lie to her. He'd lied to everyone else when they asked – he was fine, he was recovered, he didn't have nightmares – but it just seemed wrong to lie to Kate. It seemed pointless. She'd know. She always knows.

Kate nodded, but kept her silence. Whatever Castle wanted to say, he would have to work his way to it. She had a pretty good idea that what he was going to ask would be along the lines of coming back to the precinct, and that was something she was NOT going to help him get to. Kate had yet to figure out how exactly she was going to reject him, and she needed all the preparation time she could get.

"So how are you? How's everything at the precinct?" he asked after a smaller stretch of silence, genuinely curious to hear about the precinct as well as Kate. His promise to Alexis had been to severe ties with the NYPD, so naturally it had included Esposito, Ryan and Lanie. Gates he hadn't minded so much.

Eyes flitting away from him, Kate settled her gaze on the water glasses, watching as the condensation on the glasses formed droplets of water that ran down the glasses and onto the table. She briefly thought about getting some coasters before rejecting the idea. If only coasters were her biggest worry. "The precinct's fine… As you know, we're working a new case today. Esposito and Ryan are still there," she replied, effectively avoiding the question about her. She couldn't very well tell him that she was a shell of who she used to be before. Kate couldn't tell Rick that she missed him so much that even now, when he was sitting next to her on the same couch, in her apartment, she longed for him. She couldn't tell him that nightmares haunted her dreams, and that she would suddenly get an overpowering sense of guilt and loss that would render her utterly useless randomly during the day.

No, she couldn't say those things but she couldn't lie either, so Kate chose to remain quiet. Rick's brow furrowed and his chest suddenly tightened as the situation suddenly dawned on him. It was early, and back when he had been around, Beckett would certainly not be home during these times. She would be at the precinct, fighting to find fresh leads and suspects so that the case wouldn't go cold and they could wrap it up as quickly as possible. Yet, here she was, wearing pyjamas and reading a dog-eared Patterson when he knew for a fact that she had a fresh case.

"But how are you Kate?" he insisted. A few years ago, he would have accepted and respected her silence. Months ago Kate would have, given the right circumstances, told him exactly how she felt. Perhaps it was because of that that he found her silence so hard to accept. He cared for her more than he cared for almost anyone else – she was his friend too. His best friend. And she'd been his best friend for too long for him to just let her not speak, even after everything that had happened.

He maintained his gaze on her wet hair until the force of it forced Kate to look up and meet his eyes with her own. Instantly, she was lost. Opening her mouth, it took her a few goes before she managed to make anything come out.

"I've had better times too," she said, her voice guarded.

Rick sighed. "Kate," he repeated, his tone slightly exasperated. With his eyes, he tried to convey that she could tell him, that it was ok, that it wouldn't be wrong. Silently communicating with Kate Beckett had once been more gratifying then actually talking, and even after all this time he was pleased to find that he could still read her well.

At the look he was giving her, she crumbled. "Well, what do you want me to say Castle?" she insisted, her detached façade cracking slightly, her voice breaking as she said his name.

"What you feel. Kate, I… I just want you to talk to me. Please," he replied, his eyes pleading. For the first time in two and half months, he was feeling hopeful about something. About her. About his life. He needed her to talk to him.

The detective sighed, shaking her head and looking back down at her coffee table. "Rick… Remember when you told me, after I came to your book signing, that you watched me die?" she asked, her voice so quiet he could barely hear it. If a car had honked outside, he would have missed it altogether.

He nodded, the memory of that day washing over him and causing his scar to throb painfully as his stomach tightened. He was beginning to realize that this scar hurting was something that was not going to get better any time soon.

Kate bit her lip before continuing, holding back the flood of emotion so close to spilling over. "That might help you when you try to begin to imagine what I went through when Miller shot you. I don't know how much you remember from that night, but I was tied to a chair, and he pointed the gun and shot. A single degree upwards and he would have hit your ribcage. Two degrees and he would have blown your heart. You bled out and I couldn't do anything. I couldn't even go to you, the ropes were so tight. I literally watched the light fade from your eyes," she said, then suddenly lifted her head to look straight into those blue irises she was picturing in her head. Only unlike her memory, the ones before her were very much alive.

"I don't remember much after that. Something happened, and I had to look away. When I looked back, your eyes were shut and the pool of blood around you just kept growing and growing. And this was after I had to listen to a recording of you being horrifically tortured…" she added breathlessly, choked, as she relived those moments, her eyelids blinking rapidly.

Her expression frightened him much more than her words did. His memory of the night was foggy at best, mainly because he had spent hours shutting it out, and he definitely did have the memory of being shot. Her usually calm, collected demeanor was unraveling before him and he panicked. Yes, he'd wanted her to talk, but he had not suspected that she was keeping all of this bottled up. What had happened to Lanie? She knew how to crack Kate like no one else. Had no one talked to her about what happened?

At the realization that this was probably the first time she'd talked about this to anyone, Rick's heart thundered painfully. He had Alexis, he had his mother… But she, being the independent woman he loved so much, she never let anyone in. Not knowing exactly what to do, he reached for her hands, clasped together on her lap, and squeezed, trying to somehow comfort her. "But I'm alive now. I'm fine. I survived. It takes a lot more to kill me," he said, his feeble attempt to slightly lighten the mood lost on Kate, for she had stopped breathing as soon as his hands touched hers.

She stared down at her lap. Her own hands seemed almost comically small, as they were completely wrapped by his. He was squeezing gently, clearly trying to make her feel better, but all he was doing was working her up more. The first thing she'd wanted to do when she'd seen him this morning was ditch it all, run up to him and just throw herself at him. Impulses like that weren't foreign to her; if she'd given in to any of them, their relationship would not be what it is now. Thing was, her mind usually controlled these emotions. She'd always had reasons, excuses for why she couldn't give in to her wants. Yet now, as she looked down at his hands, as she heard the words he was saying, as she felt the warmth emanating from his skin onto her cold hands, she couldn't swallow the choked sob that escaped her. Nor the next one. Nor the one after that.

"Two degrees, Rick," she whispered between sobs, and looked back up at him once more, tears now freely falling down her cheeks. He was worried, panicked, in pain – but alive. He was alive. For a split second Kate forgot she had promised herself to keep her distance. She forgot that she thought it was her fault everything had happened. She forgot that she had tried to lock away Rick Castle and not let him back in again ever.

She forgot. Because all she knew at that moment was that this man was more important to her than almost anything else. That the two and a half months without him, after he'd almost died by her feet, had been agony she had experienced only once before when her mother had died. No matter what happened, she knew she would not survive losing him again. She just couldn't.

"I miss you Rick," she added, so silently this time Rick was sure he had imagined it. But the look on her face was real, the movement of her lips was real, and the self-deprecating anguish in her eyes was definitely real. Without thinking twice, he let go of her hands only to slide himself closer to her, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He hugged her to him as he felt his shoulder dampen from her tears, her whole body shaking uncontrollably, sobbing. With each heave from her chest, he felt himself die a little more inside. He trailed one gentle hand up her arm and to her head, where he gently placed it, not uttering a word, his own heart breaking in two for the woman he was holding.

"I miss you too, Kate. So much," he whispered back as her sobs began to lessen, turning to small hiccups as the tears ceased. His words almost sent her over again, but she managed to hold herself in check. For a long while, they were both silent, both feeling horribly guilty over different things. Unlike Rick, Kate's silence was more of a stunned one; never, in any moment during her life, had she collapsed like that in front of someone else. Even after her mother had died, she'd had her meltdowns alone, in a quiet locked room with no one to console her. To have so completely lost herself when with Castle honestly scared her. It scared her because she had been literally incapable of doing that half a year ago.

His hands tightened on her smaller frame, not minding in the least that her wet hair sent droplets of water down his arm, down his shirt, causing him to shiver. She was thinner than he remembered. Behind his closed eyelids, her anguished face haunted him until he knew he was going to burst if he didn't get it out.

"It wasn't your fault. It can't be your fault. I know how it looks, I know that all this time you've been blaming yourself, but you didn't kidnap me. It wasn't you. You're not Miller. You didn't torture me, Kate. He did," he said, his lips so close to her head his words came out a little muffled.

Kate remained silent.

"Say something. Tell me you understand. Tell me you agree. You can't blame yourself for what happened for the rest of your life," he added, insisting. He looked down at her, but her face was angled towards her lap, so he couldn't read her expression.

"How can I? He was very explicit. He knew about our… our partnership. That's the only reason he came after you. What would you think, if it was the other way around, Castle?" she finally replied, completely hollow. This was turning into one of those nightmares she often had but with a twist. It wasn't Rick dying; it was him very much alive and her having to push him away, which was almost as bad. If he came back to her, it would only happen again eventually, which meant that as much as it would hurt, she couldn't let him do that. And she couldn't wake up from this nightmare; it was real.

He took a moment to think about it. "If something had happened to you? Kate, it already did. Your house blew up. You almost… almost died then," his voice choked over the word, "but you convinced me that it wasn't my fault, and looking back, I agree. Please. You can't blame yourself. I'm actually glad it was me – because I would not have survived had I known he was doing those things to you," he said, and almost instantly regretted his words. Perhaps that was not the most appropriate thing to say.

She didn't know how to respond to that. Her immediate reaction was to tell him that she often wished the alternative, but what was the point of that? What was the point of telling him that whatever he said, she wasn't going to stop feeling guilty over what had happened? Almost as if he could read her mind, Rick sighed and once again spoke up. She shivered when she felt his breath on her ear.

"Let me come back, Kate. I promise, I'll take whatever precautions you want me to. Please, I can't not see y-… You know I haven't written? All this time? Nothing. I haven't written anything. I'm as creative as a cardboard box," he said, having uttered the first words directly to her ear. He needed to make an impact. He needed her to say yes. He had a feeling the mayor wouldn't be a good card to pull at the present time. Not that he's talked to him lately.

The detective sighed and gently removed herself from him, giving him no choice but to let go of her as she stood up. When he was next to her, her brain was muddled. When he was touching her, she couldn't think straight. When he was whispering things in her ear, she couldn't make coherent decisions. As she stood up, she found her head cleared somewhat.

Turning around, she looked down at him, taking note of the slightly hollowed out eyes, the fallen expression, and once again the fact that he was much slimmer now. Opening her mouth, she blinked and looked at her shoes, gathering herself up to flat out tell him to go home.

That was when her phone rang.

Both of them jumped as though a bullet had suddenly been fired. Castle immediately stood up as Kate went for her phone. One glance at the ID told her it was the precinct. Sighing, she looked skywards and swallowed, clearing her throat and composing herself before she answered.

"Beckett."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Retrospectively, it was probably a good thing her phone had rung when it did. The stubborn expression on her face had been completely clear; Kate had been about to turn him down. She'd been on the brink of telling him that he wasn't to come back, that there was no longer room for him with the NYPD. At least now, that was still hanging in the air. A small smile graced his face as he remembered that second which she had answered her phone – it had been so long since he'd heard that "Beckett" answer come from her.

He had missed it.

Rick groaned and closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall outside the 12th precinct, the cool night air chilling him. After she'd hung up the conversation, she'd instructed him to leave while she went to get changed. Of course, he hadn't actually left, and was still standing there awkwardly when she came out fifteen minutes later, dressed in work clothes with her hair now dry and pulled back in a loose bun. Their eyes had met, their gazes spoke volumes, but all she'd told him was to get out, because she was leaving.

Once outside, she'd gone into her car and left, sparing him only one glance. He hadn't tried to get in the passenger side, despite how much he truly wanted to. He'd watched her car as it disappeared into the night, and stood around for a little bit before hailing a cab. Now, he was standing outside the station, hidden in the shadows, trying to remain inconspicuous as cops walked in and out, some of whom he recognized and some he didn't.

He didn't know how long he stood outside for. Kate had emerged from the building a little while after he'd arrived in her vest – a sight that had his scar stinging – with both Esposito and Ryan, clearly on some sort of trail. A little bit after that, Lanie had come out looking absolutely stunning in a loose bottle green dress and took a cab. Castle briefly wondered if she and Esposito were still a thing. It wasn't long before the three detectives came back, and he watched as Esposito and Ryan helped along a guy in handcuffs and a suit into the building, with Beckett looking serious and unyielding. He gathered that they had found a suspect for the murder. He was surprised to see Esposito emerge from the building not long after in a black tux, driving off in the same direction Lanie had gone. Could be a coincidence, but he doubted it. A smile flickered upon his face; at least something was right in the world.

When standing became too physically demanding, the writer realized that he had to move. Shivering as a slight gust of cold wind blew down the street, he quickly made his way to the entrance of the station. The cops there recognized him immediately, but somehow he managed to get on the elevator without too much fuss from them. As the doors slid shut, his eyebrows rose as one cop shouted "finally!" to him. Apparently things around here hadn't changed much.

The whole ride up, Castle wondered what exactly he was going to do once he reached the right floor. Ryan was still here; what would he say to him if he saw him first? What if Gates was the first person he saw? … What if it was Kate?

With a ping, the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, revealing a relatively quiet bullpen. Staring, he almost forgot to step out onto the floor and hastily did so before the doors closed. For a second, he just stood there, taking in the familiar sights and smells of the place he had been calling his second home for four years now. He had definitely missed it.

"Castle?" a voice sounded, and Rick spun around to see Ryan staring at him, jaw hanging open in a very undignified, yet completely suitable for Ryan, look. The writer's face briefly lit up as he saw his friend, before he swallowed nervously. What was he supposed to say now?

"Castle?" Kate repeated, coming around the corner after Ryan and almost walking into him as her gaze landed on the writer. Her mouth thinned and her eyes narrowed as she stared at him, and Rick found himself swallowing again. Ryan, sensing the tension, decided that now would not be a good time for catching up.

"I'm, er, going to go stare at the murder board and be productive elsewhere," he stated and quickly scarpered out of the way, leaving the two to work out their issues. As soon as he was out of earshot, he took out his phone and proceeded to excitedly text both Lanie and Javier, whom he knew would want updates. A small grin formed on his face, and Ryan sighed contently. "Welcome back, Castle," he whispered, more to himself, and sat down beside the board. It took him a few minutes before his thoughts finally drifted to the murder.

"Castle, what are you doing here?" Kate asked as soon as Ryan had walked away, staring daggers at the writer. She had been sure that she'd have at least twenty four hours until she'd have to see him again… Apparently even two hours weren't guaranteed.

"I wanted to talk to you," he replied nonchalantly, not really sure how to act around her when there were other people around. He mind kept going to a little earlier this evening, when she had cried and cried on his shoulder. It was hard to imagine that this was the same woman standing before him, strong and confident and staring him down like a pro.

Kate rolled her eyes and spun on her heels, making for the break room. Castle hastily followed, and once they were both inside she shut all the doors and pulled down the blinds, effectively creating a neutral space that would most likely not be interrupted. Had this been a busier time of day, and such an act would have been impossible. Done with her preparations she turned back to Castle, arms crossed over her chest and one eyebrow quirked up in question.

"Two hours ago, you told me you missed me and cried on my shoulder. Now it's as if we're back to my first time here where my very existence annoys you. We can't go back there, Kate. We've outgrown it. We've kissed, we've nearly died together, we've nearly died apart, we've been through hell and back," he said, pressing the subject and saying the things they usually never said on purpose. The only way to get something to crack was to apply pressure to it.

Although apply too much pressure, and it shatters. It's a very fine line.

Kate visibly winced at his words. Usually they talked about things backwards, or not at all, never saying anything outright. Now that no one was looking, and in the familiar place of the break room, she felt his words impact her more. Plus, the fact that he was here again after all this time sent ripples of nostalgia and longing through her. She DID miss him, she missed him so much. And, as one part of her mind argued, if he was around, she could watch over him, right?

Sighing, the detective closed her eyes and leaned back against the counter, frowning. "Please Castle… Don't make this harder than it already is. You were lucky. You won't be so lucky again. And how do you think Alexis and Martha are going to feel, what with you back here?" she asked, trying to steer the conversation away from her and onto him. It was actually surprising it had taken her this long to bring up his daughter.

Rick spotted the technique, but had no way of countering it. "I have their full blessing. Like I said, I've had better times, and they've noticed," he said, also looking away from her now.

Kate blinked. "Alexis… wants you here?" she asked again, making sure she heard right. The last time she'd seen the younger Castle, the girl had all but applied for a restraining order. How all that disappeared in two months was insane.

He nodded. "Told me so herself today, after you left," he said, and went quiet. The ball was in her court now. As it always was.

She bit her lip and fisted her hands, the internal struggle tearing her apart. Let him back, or keep him away at all costs? She wasn't blind to the last two months, and she knew that his absence mixed with her guilt was slowly eating her alive, despite the therapy sessions here and there. She almost never went anymore, because she'd noticed that on the days when she talked about what happened, she had nightmares. She'd rather bottle herself up than suffer through any more of those than were necessary.

She sighed, shoulders drooped, utterly defeated. She was going to be selfish. She was going to ask him to stay. She was going to put him back in the danger zone and there was nothing her conscience could do to stop it.

"Take it up with Gates, Castle. But you HAVE to be more careful. And if she says yes, then there are a few things you need to have on you at all times. Promise me you'll listen, promise me you won't go into stupid situations, and for the love of god Castle, promise me no more getting kidnapped by serial killers. Twice… twice is more than enough," she said, spewing it all out before she could change her mind. Or before her mind could intervene.

Castle's jaw dropped and his eyes widened as she began. The more she talked, the wider his smile got until he practically glowed. Or, as she liked to describe it, like a kid on Christmas morning, who got twice the amount of gifts. Seemingly unable to speak, he took a few steps towards her and without warning, reached out to wrap his arms around her and he squeezed tightly, hugging her to him and not intending on letting go. Ever.

His smile was infectious and sooner than she thought, the corners of her own lips began tugging upwards. It grew into a fully-fledged grin as he hugged her tight, pinning her arms to her sides, and she laughed out loud as she suddenly found she couldn't breathe. "Castle… Castle, you won't be able to come back if you kill a detective," she chuckled.

Almost immediately he dropped his arms, though made no move to back up. In fact, it was only as he let go that she realized how close to each other they actually were, and began to feel a flush at the base of her neck. His entire body was pressing her against the counter, and she could feel… _everything_. Looking up into his eyes, she saw the expression in them change from undiluted joy to something she'd seen only once before… And that had been very briefly, while they had been undercover. Still, it was an undercover moment that had taken her a while to forget.

"C-Castle…" she whispered, half in protest and half in desire. Her hands were gripping the edges of the counter so hard that her knuckles turned white, and she waited breathlessly, waited to see what it was that he was going to do. Her gaze flickered from his eyes down to his lips and back up again, something she was so used to doing she didn't even realize she was doing it.

Rick however, did not miss it. The moment he had let go of her, he had felt this overwhelming need to just lean forward and gently, oh so gently, place a kiss on those gorgeous set lips he'd kissed once before. Why couldn't he? Because she'd said she had that wall. Did that even apply anymore? It was a year ago, and so much had happened since then. What did he have to lose? Basically everything. He'd just had a two month preview of what life without Kate Beckett is like; did he really want to go through that again?

But could he stop himself? Rick suddenly found himself inching his face closer and closer to hers. He would have stepped closer to her too, only they were about as close as two solid objects could get. In fact, Rick had to keep his mind off that fact, since she would be able to feel any changes in his… arousal.

The smell of cherries suddenly suddenly him as she opened her mouth to utter his name. Looking at her eyes, he found in them a longing he had never seen before. Then they flicked down to his mouth and he almost sighed, he'd seen her do that so many times. He loved it. "Kate, I-" he began, his voice unsteady as his brain began to try and form a coherent sentence.

The moment her eyes looked back at his however, his concentration broke. Was she- was this his imagination, or was she leaning over to him as well? No, it couldn't be. But it was. Because now he could practically feel her on his lips. Her eyelids fluttered shut and he leaned in that last minute distance, pressing his lips to hers oh so softly when a harsh knock on the door startled them apart.

Startled them so far apart in fact, that in the space of a blink, Castle found himself on the other side of the room. As Ryan's voice sounded from behind the door, he wanted nothing more than to open it and literally strangle the detective to death. It would have lovely poetic value – homicide NYPD detective murdered at precinct.

"Er, Beckett, Castle… Not to interrupt, but I'm pretty sure I just cracked this case. We need to go pick up the son, now," Ryan said, and they heard his footsteps as he backed away from the door. Even through the door, they could hear both the reluctance in his voice and the satisfaction over having possibly solved the case.

Rick's eyes went to Kate, staring at her. Her own were still shut, and for the first time he noticed her death grip on the table. He longed to say something, anything, but wisely kept his mouth shut. After what seemed like an eternity to him, but was actually no more than a few seconds, Kate opened her eyes, gave him a fleeting look and made for the door. If he could still read her well, then the look had basically meant that they needed to talk.

And in all honesty, that was all he really hoped for.

* * *

><p><em><strong>There you have it! What did you think? PLEASE let me know. I honestly need feedback, because I swear I have no idea where I'm taking this. Also, just know that once we hit the 14th, updates won't be out for a while because I'm going away for a bit (something along the lines of three weeks? Not completely sure yet). NO WORRIES THOUGH, because I'm not abandoning this story. Not ever. No matter how long it takes me, I'll finish it. YOU HAVE MY WORD.<strong>_

_**Until next time,**_

_**Dani**_


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